The Backstory of Akasha (Old edition)
by SuperEvanKnight-N3V3R D1E
Summary: For in a land of gods and monsters, heros and devils, there are many stories to tell. To0 many for a single sitting, or even a life time of study. But, this one in particular, is of Akasha Harkon, the only known vampire of the sun. This is her past, the secrets and the whispers that now evade the light. Come, hero, and let me tell you her tale. (Old edition, new one out soon.)
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** Hi! This is going to be the full backstory of my character Akasha, who was created for the biggest DnD idea my group had yet. I had a basic backstory a few months ago, but this is the revised and story form for it. I put a large amount of time into this, and would really appreciate some reviews to better help my writing. Note: most of the story is already written, but if there is a way you think I can improve the writing, the grammar, etc, please either review or PM me. Also, this story takes place in a homebrew world, so please dont rage if it doesnt match your world. Thanks!

 **Chapter 1: The First Time**

There was a soft chirping which sang through the air in the trees high above the forest, a finch like any other. It was a nice, if slightly warmer than usual, day. The sun gently beat upon the world, bathing it in bright light. Only a few strings of clouds drifted high above in the heavens.

A mother watched her three children, a sad smile across her kind yet softly aged face. The queen of Rilia, her kingdom. The queen's name was Loriana Harkon. She had ruled this kingdom for nearly 27 years, and has ruled alone for over 9 now. She gave a soft giggle as her little sunshine tried to tackle the eldest daughter.

Rina was the oldest of the siblings and was heir to the throne. Her short, curly black-and-brown hair closely resembled her mother and father's. A very common color for the kingdom, of course. Her skin was lightly tanned, with the kind green eyes of her father, jaded like gemstones and shined like a star . She gave a short curse as she was knocked down. Rina was 14, though hardly acted as such, much more like the youngest.

Off to the sides was Grace, smiling wistfully. The middle and last official child. She was barely 12 now, and was more regal than any child had a right to be at thst age. Her hair was down, only slightly curly and as black as her father's had been. Her blue eyes held a soft light that Loriana was proud to say was as close to her own as possible, made more obvious with the darker colored dress she wore.

And, finally, was the only unofficial child the Harkon family line has ever sired. Her name was Rowan, the little ball of sunshine. Bareilly 6, she filled out any room with the energy that only a child could. She laughed as she got off her oldest sister, careful not to tug on her hair like she usually did. Rowan was short, wearing a bright yellow sun dress. Her skin was as pale and pure as porcelain or snow, her eyes a golden color and her hair was straight and, unlike her sisters, was golden blond and bright fire red intertwined.

It was easy to see, physically, how she wasn't 'legitimate'. She didn't have the curly hair of her mother or sisters, nor was it dark like any of her ancestors. The Harkon lineage had always had dark, curly hair, as you can guess. Rowan had neither. Harkon's also were prone to slightly darker skin tones, and yet here her sunshine was the color of snow. The eyes were the greatest show, for no one in the whole royal court had golden eyes.

"Rowan! Grace! Rina! Time to come inside!" Their mother called, all three moving towards their mother, though Rowan stayed back, seeming to not want to leave the outdoors. But after looking to the stern face of her mother, she ran over as fast as her little legs could carry her.  
"You three get washed up, we have company." Loriana said, Grace simply nodding and walking off as the other two groaned. Rina let it go at a sigh and a grumble, heading off to her room to have the maids wash her.

"But mama! I ain'ts a dirty! Look!" Rowan chimed, holding her hands up for her mother to see. Loriana chuckled, gently picking her child up and holding her.  
"Well my dear Rowan, you still need a bath. Besides, do you want to miss out on Angela's stories?" Loriana asked her youngest, the child shaking her head in the negative quickly. Loriana set her down, kissing her forehead gently. Angela, Rowan's maid came out of the hallway, seeing her charge. Rowan ran over to her, giggling.

Loriana sighed happily, glad there was no problems between the three. It was her greatest fear that the two would turn on their youngest sister. She loved her family, truly. She breathed in once the sweet summer air, banishing the worries as she went to get ready The agents of Lord Dagon would be wanting to eat soon. Her nose wrinkled, disliking the smell of her guest from here. She wasn't certain who this Lord Dagon was or where he ruled, but it had to of been by the sea. These agents smelled like sea rot. She could smell it from here, she swore.

Loriana sighed, releasing the sweet air as she moved deeper inside, heading to the royal dining hall, dodging trails of drippings. Probably the new apprentice of the chiefs. Her steps were soft and light, as she slipped into the hall.

The decor was simple yet as royal as any other royal castle and only just below a palace's. The single rug that went under the table was a dark red, the cadabras on the table uniform and alit with new candles, the walls aligned with a few paintings and cases of old weapons. It was so normal it was almost alien.

The queen moved beside all the formal arrangements, heading to the servant's door that hid between two old paintings, knocking once as she moved aside, a boy bursting out with two large platters on his arms, heading to the table. A thick, squat man wondered out, hardly fitting through the doors.

"I trust all is well?" Loriana asked, both as friend and queen. The man's name was Richton, best (dwarven) chief and royal cook of the kingdom. The two had grown up together, though. He was the old head cook's boy when she was just a young princess. They had played together, and when they grew up she kept him on.

"Ai, me'lady. New boy is clumsy as all hell, but knows how to crust a pie. Not as good as I, but I can hardly do it all myself!" the dwarf boasted, laughing to the heavens above. Loriana could only grin, the old fool older than the queen yet still the greatest of friends.

"Ah, Richton, you always find ways to amuse me. Sadly, this isn't social." Loriana reminded, the dwarven cook's chuckling dying out, stuffing the bit of his beard that had pulled out back under his apron. No one liked beard hair in the soup.

"Yes, me'lady. The two primary courses are finished or finishing. Should we expect s third to be needed?" He asked, voice going from joyful and boisterous to gravely, fitting his role.

"That will be more than enough, though a few deserts would be appropriate." Loriana started. "And, perhaps, did you make something that was asked of our guest?" She added after a second.

"Ai, already on it. I'm assuming the usual will do?" He asked, pausing only to see her nod once. "and I've started on it. Heh, Ask? More like demand. And who the hell enjoys squid?" the dwarf demanded, letting his tongue slip.

"Apparently these men. And thank you, Richton. Also, you have grease in the tips of your beard." she teased before heading out again to the grumblings of the dwarf as he went back into his domain.

Her next stop was to check the maids and the staff, good gods above did she need to hire a good staff keep, and a few guards more than she had currently.

Her guest were past warriors, like her husband had been in life. Probably blessed with their positions by their king who had probably been a general. While she was not immediately familiar with all the kingdoms in the vast reaches of her land, she had never heard of this Lonin these men have come from. And that frightened her.

Not for the unknown, but the probable. Lands changed name and kingdoms rise and fall, but it almost always by the violent hand of war and revolutions. And when unknown men come and dine in relative secrecy, not announced to the public and names not even announced to the staff, it meant either threats or alliances.

Regardless, she would have to turn them away. Her kingdom was small yet well guarded, resting in a circle of mountains with plenty of resources and the primary defense the whole kingdom needed guarding the only human way in. Thus, they had a firm, century long pact of neutrality.

Though, she doubted they could hold out if war did come. Her forces were small, and while well equipped they were lacking in experience. A century of peace will do that, no matter how forceful the general is.

"Mommy! Mommy!" came soft chiming from the hall, Rowan running over to her. Loriana could only grin, kneeling by her youngest as the child stopped in front of her mother, throwing her arms around her neck and pulling close, nuzzling into the woman.

"Rowan!" The woman chuckled, holding her child. "Are you ready for supper?" She asked politely, for the old sayings often hold true: The walls have ears and the shadows have eyes.

"Yeah, look at my pretty dress!" Rowan chimed, letting go of her mother and spinning around arms out. Loriana could only grin, back straight now as she waited for her daughter to stop.

"That's lovely dear, the color really suits you well." Loriana lied, the green dress not attention grabbing nor decorated beyond necessity. But it's what was needed, for they needed to draw as little attention as possible tonight. She gently took the girl's hand, nodding. Rowan giggled lightly, settling down.

"Let's not keep them waiting Rowan." Loriana reminded, guiding Rowan to the dining hall for a meeting that would change their lives forever.

The details of the meal would be lost over the heads of Rowan and the staff. The child ate like any other night, stuffing herself with an assortment of sweet meats and fresh fruits while the staff constantly cycled, taking emptied dishes and refilling when needed.

But for the two primary heirs and the queen, this formal-disguised-as-informal supper was very disturbing. Of course, it started normal enough. The general ass kissing to the royal family was short, and it wasn't long before the thinly veiled threats and promises started.

"Of course, our Lord would have enjoyed coming to visit himself, but he does send his regards." the lead advisor clumsily started. Average looking overall, though his hair was tied back, and he reminded those present of a demented fish. He was probably new to this.

"Oh yes. Though, I must admit, I do wonder why he would be interested in my kingdom. Unless he is a peaceful man, wishing for trade?" Rina started, Loriana letting the eldest start this off. Rin's needed experience at this regardless.

"Well, perhaps. Though 'trade' wouldn't quiet be the right words, little girl." the leader started, and thus began the demands.

Overall, it wasn't much. By the end of the second course, a rough deal had been struck. Plenty of lumber and stone from Rilia would be traded for meager amounts of fish and a decent load of various fruits.

Many would say Loriana was doing wrong, but it was all for neutrality. Her kingdom accepted trade agreements from everyone. If they denied, it was almost as good as a proclamation of hatred. Loriana would not break centuries of neutral traditions die or break under her rule.

And while she could let them trade amongst the people, she didn't want that either. So she would strike a backroom deal with them, to be carried out as needed. They had an abundance of lumber, along with several areas dedicated to growing trees and various more forest they still had for uncut lumber in addition to what they already hsd. And the silver mines in the northern mountains had been complaining about the junk stone that was just being piled up.

There was also the unmentioned threats, at this point, but why bother? By the end of supper, a deal for the neutrality of her kingdom was in place and this new kingdom would ignore them from now on. Desserts were piled onto the table, and it wasn't long before the kids were sent up to their room and the harsh details were sorted out between her, her advisor, and the guests. And it was but an hour til midnight when the men of the new kingdom rode off.

Loriana was just glad this nasty business was over, though the cleaners of the night were just getting started, considering the large amounts of watery trails around the table. They all swore it was the new boy, who was soon to be let go.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: So far, I'm pleased with the way this story is starting grow. Not in views or follows (not that I got any), but rather in the way it's written. I started this whole series on my phone's Memo app. It can only hold a decent sized amount of characters, and I found that it's good enough for ideas and short scenes, but not really good for s story this sized. The reason I'm happy is because I've been freed of those locks, and since then I have (hopefully) filled out the story well. Regardless, please enjoy and review if you want!**

 **Ch. 2: The Span of Years**

Many people talk of time like it's fluid, and how right they are. It only felt like a few days or a half month at most since those men came, and it was weekly when they returned. The demands were spasmodic and varied, but never was it something truly valuable or couldn't be regrow or regathered. In the words of Grace one fateful afternoon: "They are leeches, nothing more but nothing less. Whilst I do worry about the long term continuation of this, for now it is only an annoyance."

Well, these 'leeches' had stayed, stuck to the skin of the kingdom, and it was just over three years now. Many would assume that either Loriana would have snapped by now or one of her children said something wrong to the advisors, who had only just recently gotten on a first name basis with them all.

But, in the ever perfect phrase that holds true for all and was even more wise in nature than the middle child's belief of the men: Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.  
"That went better than I hoped." Grace softly commented, firm yet kind. The child had allowed her hair to curl over the years, and it flowed went well with her dark purple dress. And just as she had started to fill out in her youth, so had her mind blossomed even further. She walked softly, hardly a noise made beyond a peach as she moved with her two sisters away from the dining table to Rina's room, a common ground for all three of them.  
"So them blackmailing us and then trying to demand more than we have is better than you hoped?" Rina demanded, anger laced in her voice. Just as the middle had grown ever wiser in her years, the now 17 year old had grown from an angry child into a furious young woman, body and mind. She was wrinkling her nose, coughing out the horrible smell from supper. While it held its simple delicious scent as always, the scent of the squid or fish or whatever the old dwarven bastard used stuck in her nose.  
"Yes, for they simply could have taken everything by now." Grace only lead on there, as the old saying goes: the walls have ears. It wouldn't do for anyone to hear that the military might of the kingdom has diminished greatly over the last dozen years, ever since her father died.

It should also be mentioned somewhere, and it probably was in one of the old dusty tomes in the library, that those simple phrases common told had to be so simply true in many cases.  
Rowan was about to say something, though the words caught in her throat. Oh, she wasn't mute, but rather very cautious and more than a little frightened. It had been the case that Grace and Rina, despite still loving her, have seemed to placed her in a category between royalty and the servants. Good enough to still acknowledge and cherish but not enough to see her as equal.  
Rowan herself didn't know the reason, but Rina and Grace had figured out that, at best, Rowan was their half sister. While they still loved her, they both had greater things to do than mess with someone who was half royalty, especially with the kingdom of Dagon breathing down their neck.  
Rina opened the door to her room, mentioning to the handmaiden that they wished not to be disturbed. Rowan slipped in, nearly clipped by the heavy slamming door. Which, she idly noticed, was heavy wood with metal in the middle. A good slam with that could cause a hefty break in an arm if you were lucky. Let's not mention unlucky.

The other two didn't say anything to Rowan, continuing their conversation in hushed tones as Rowan found a nice seat by the table, the other two sitting at the bed. This was normal, for they believed Rowan, while good enough to have a seat, wasn't good enough for the bed, or that's how Rowan thought of it.

"What did they spew this time again? I was tuning them out." Rina demanded, casually loosening her dress without fear. And what did she have to fear? This was her room, these were her sisters, and they were safe here, comfortable. Amongst friends, almost.

"They were threatening the copper mines this time, on the eastern border." Grace softly commented. The kingdom of Rilia wasn't very big, but they had vast resource gathering operations in their borders. The mountains of their eastern border had vast wells of copper, iron, and supposedly gold in the southern mines while the northern mines boasted silver.

"Why don't we just tell them to fuck off?" Rowan finally spoke, the first time since lunch that afternoon that wasn't a 'please pass this' or a 'please' or 'thanks'. The child was often quiet now a days, finding herself better company with Angela than her sisters sometimes.

"Watch your tongue, Rowan." Grace chided coldly. Rowan shivered, the almost physically cold words able to affect the 9 year old. "And besides, you know our soldiers are low in numbers, many finding better opportunity in the farms or mines." Grace added cooly.

"But I've never even head of this Kingdom of Dagon." Rowan chimed, causing Rina's heated glare to find its mark on the red-yellow headed girl.

"Row-!" "Actually, she does have a point Rina." Grace commented, stopping what would have been a very nasty tongue lashing at the youngest sibling. While neither hated the youngest, Rina had a sharp tongue and knew just what to say to hurt Rowan. Better to keep this civil and not heated. "We may not be the biggest, but we surely would have known of any other kingdom that sprung up." She continued.

"But someone must have thought of that, and investigated, right?" Rina demanded, slipping out of her dress finally with ease. Rina, in the presence of her sisters had very little problem slipping out of her fancy clothing.

"You'd think, but we never really let outsiders know anything other than they were coming to talk. Only Mother, yourself, Rowan, the royal adviser, and myself would know the details of these meetings." Grace spoke fluently and calmly, easing her older sisters speculation and anger. Rowan was still pouting, as she often does.

The child knew that if they did look into it, they would claim Rowan had no part and would ignore her more. Rowan bit her lip, pout subsiding to a twitching frown as thoughts of endless days like this, where she was ignored and chided and ignored some more by her two sisters sprang up. And just like the thoughts had done, she got up, going to the door and walking out. She wasn't surprised to hear neither of the two comment on her rapid departure, and once the heavy door was closed, all was silent again save for the gossip of two handmaidens who would be waiting for Rina and Grace to finish their conversation before daring even to knock.

Rowan was too busy for small time gossip about the new kid in the kitchen that had replaced the old one that had replaced the old one. She was walking quickly to the family library. Or their equivalent of one, their huge collection of books from everything they had gathered ever since her father's father's father's father took the crown from his father.

A few words to the servant on duty here got her a map on current geographic standings of the surrounding areas and another one about the continent borders, before heading off to her tree.  
The tree in question was a rowan tree, like one of the many high in the mountains. But this tree has branches weighed with black fruits and darker wood was the basis for most of the tree. Many servants called it the Devil's tree, but for Rowan it was a safe haven. No one came out here, to this far corner of the gardens. No one needed to. The pretty bright flowers were crowding the walkways, and the normal fruit bearing trees were just beyond them, and so many other colorful and delightful things to see kept the rather tall rowan tree, with its darker colors and strange unneeded fruit, out of the way. Rowan herself never knew how it got here, but she remembered falling in love with it.

She slid around it, squeezing between wall of stone and tree of wood to where she was facing the mini space between the rowan tree and the corner of the garden. She smiled, moving into her spot. She sat in a little concave part of the tree, between two weird roots that had made into pseudo walls, a little cubby. It was night time, finally, so she shifted to look through her stash, which was hidden under a patch of dirt that was easy to move. She pulled out a candle, building a little mound for it and grabbing her last stolen match, lighting it. The darkness slid away, leaving her just enough light to read by. She grinned, pulling the blanket out from under her, pulling it around her and grabbing the first map. At least it was dry out here. The land of Dagon must be wet, cause the advisor talked of their wet trail and causing Rowan to love the dry season that much more.  
Rowan had spent a lot of time here, in her little hide away. Ever since she found it, this had become her safe place. When Grace's chilly, nipping words cut too deep into her, she snuck out to here. When Rina's heated growls/shouts wounded her, she scattered here. When her mother didn't have time for her and focused on the other two, she ran here almost in tears. The little cubby was almost perfect for her size when she found it, and she had grown so it was. Her stash was things she had stolen from the castle, a few candles, some tinder sticks, her favorite blanket that wasn't big enough to be her comforter on her bed anymore.

She yawned, loving the way the cold nipped at her exposed toes and her nose, so she curled her legs under her, pulling it so the blanket reached her chin. Let it be known thst she was an outdoors kind of child, unlike her sisters. She grabbed a map, moving the lit candle from its spot to the root, where other wax stains and strings formed a half assed stand. She fumbled with it. Soon, it was in its right spot, it's dull light enough to read by as the sun had set long before, not that it mattered. The thick and tall walls would have stopped any light from coming in this corner anyways.  
"I'll show them, I'll discover the truth first, I'll tell mama, she'll see I'm better then them." The nine year old claimed softly, engrossing herself into the map as much as she could.

It took the girl an hour before she started to fall asleep, admirable for a child of nine when reading a boring map whose most exciting parts were mentions of proposed plans to build bridges across rivers and such. She got a bit into the first map, crossing out two of the seven border kingdoms as most certainly not under the lands of Dagon, who or whatever that was. She yawned, rubbing her golden eyes as she dropped the map, letting it fall onto the other before she reached up, pinching the flame as best as a small child could, licking her fingers from the fading burning feeling. Rowan curled up under her tree, pulling the blanket over herself as best as possible to ward off the soft chill. Soft, phantom voices followed her into the realm of dreams and nightmares, not knowing what would be chosen for tonight.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Nothing new to really report for now, other than a quick thank you to all those who have read and enjoyed this. Also, quick shout out to Foxy-senpai, who know who you are.**

 **Ch 3: The Queen's Planning**

"Angela, have you seen Rowan?" Loriana asked the chosen handmaid, the frail aging woman shaking her head. Angela was old, easily so. Her thinning, grey-white hair was brushed back, her simple clothes hanging off her simple, thin frame. Angela represented the image of simplicity aged. She could have been anyone's old and wise grandmother, at first glance.

"No mistress, the young'n went with her sisters after the dinner. Never came back to her room. I was coming to you to see if ya' knew." Angels crowed, age obvious in her soft and scratchy voice. Loriana almost wouldn't hear it I'd someone else was speaking nearby. But it was just them, in the cold corridor.

"She might still be there. You go and check, I'll look in the garden. If you don't find her, come help me look." Loriana commanded, the servant shuffling off as the queen sighed when she was out of range. Why have so many servants when they couldn't keep an eye on one child, especially one as bright and often loud as Rowan.

She loved all her daughters. Truly, she did. What mother didn't-even to the lightest extent in the coldest, blackest heart-love her children? No, it was never a question of love with the queen.

But she wished Rowan wouldn't run off or curse or half the stuff she did. Loriana sometimes wished all three of her daughters turned out like Grace. Grace was her gem child, and the one she really wanted as heir. While Rina would be fierce and unbreaking, she was known to get carried away and was quick to anger, whereas Grace was calmer, more cautious. If anything, Grace should be heir while Rina could be the general, a position both the mentioned daughters and the queen would love Rina to have while leaving Grace the throne.

But it wasn't these fleeting thoughts of progressing the line that was the center of her attention, it was finding her sunshine, Rowan. The bubbly, bright haired and eyed child was nowhere in the castle, as far as she knew. And she knew that Rowan was just as comfortable outside in the slight coldness as she was inside her warm bedroom.

She stepped outside cautiously, the two guards at this entrance letting her through as they stiffened up. It could have been because of the presence of the queen, or the sudden curling breeze of frost that smelled of the snow capped mountains so far away.

Loriana chuckled, glad the soldiers here were at least halfway competent, unlike a good bit of their army. She flowed down the garden path, a guard following her in haste with a torch to light the way. He was spewing something about danger and not safe, but she hadn't the mind to listen at this second. Besides, at worst the chilled air would do little harm.

The flowers were perfect this year, so bright and colorful even as the sun had set, and the soft curve and snaking of the path was easy on the feet yet not unappealing. She stopped by the largest lavender patch, a small path between the flower beds that the gardener used to get to the back. Loriana stepped through, ducking through the trees easily. There were so many, and she often lost the location of the ancient rowan tree, but she was able to find it eventually, on the complete opposite corner she thought it was before. She slipped closer, the soldier staying back.

The queen couldn't blame him, she remembered how this darker rowan had appeared one day, not by any mortal means. The gardener had simply went berserk after finding it, for it hadn't existed before then and it was so deeply rooted it couldn't have been planted. He estimated, at the time, it was the oldest living thing in the garden, despite how new it was.

The coloring itself did put the queen on edge, as she moved behind it as much as possible, it bring a tight squeeze for the adult. But the way Rowan was all curled up and snoozing was cute enough to make this worth the short trip. She gently tried to picked the girl up, not seeing the maps . But that isn't what stopped her.

The queen tried pulling, but she just couldn't pull the girl out. After the blanket fell away, she saw that somehow, a root had wound around her daughter's right leg. It wasn't thick, but concerning how it had done so over what had been less than 3 hours, and how it went around and around from ankle to knee. It took a lot of coaxing and bending, but eventually she got her sunshine child out from her cubby, smiling as she brought her child back to the path, the soldier following suit. It was time for children to go to their real beds.

Besides, she had more to worry about. The constant demands, threats, of Dagon's agents were draining them of valuable recourses, and she had never met the distant king herself. Of course, it was high value things and generally only things they could regrow or get back one way or another.

Not like they could stop them anyways, with their lackluster military and poor weapons of war. The civilians were more interested on good trades and happy profits than war. Which was good, for Loriana did wish to keep the neutrality upon which her house had emerged from. But three years of being robbed did grate against near useless traditions. A soft "Mama" escaped from her child, who gently hugged her mother and nuzzled closer. The comforting weight and warmth of her youngest brought her out of the saddening present and into warm memories of years gone by, when she would do this often with her daughter.

Her steps brought her back to the castle interior, and soon Angela was there, taking the now half awake child to her room for , hopefully, the rest of the night. The queen needed to talk to the advisor, needing a report on how much they still had after this round of demands.

It wasn't hard to find her advisor, who was talking to Richton. She motioned both to follow, heading to the study easily. The two followed, a guard not too far behind.

The study was simple, and really not to the queen's taste. It was her old husband's design, though, and brought a slight smile to her face from his memory. Hardwood walls, stone floor, fireplace, it was closer to a simpletons cabin than a royal study. A few bookcases , stuffed animal heads, and a few arithmetic tools made it a confusing place of discussion and business. But so was her husband.

"Lord Dagon has asked for another round of supplies, as you both know." Loriana addressed the two, sitting in the large plush seat that was meant for her. "Albeck, how much have we lost since three months prior?" She asked, the advisor moving towards the tools of measure, moving a few beads on the racks as he read from a list of numbers.

Loriana watched him. Albeck was only just past new when her husband, Ganho, died so many years ago. Dark hair that was slowly being traced with grey, in a simple outfit befitting his position and barely standing taller than herself, he was hardly an opposing figure.

"By my count, my fair lady, we have given away between 62,000 and 63,000 pounds of wood from the eastern border. It is almost double that amount in junk stone. And, because of their recent tastes in metals now, almost 2,000 pounds of copper ore." Albeck finally settled on, checking his numbers slowly. "This isn't including the few crates of food, nor the few hundred pounds of cloth."

"Has anyone noticed yet?" Loriana asked, referring to the citizens that she swore to protect. If word got out and about of her idea, there would be chaos.

"As far as anyone we have bought from is concerned, no. The citizens have no firm clue, though speculation on what all this purchase means is still gossip in the towns." Albeck replied, the royal advisor having his own informants from which to draw info, just as the queen drew info from him.

"Ok, now, Richton. How much longer will our food stock in the castle last us?" Loriana asked the head cook, the dwarf thinking it over.

"Without changing meal plans? A few good months. If we fix that damned broken preservation rooms and restock, a good year, maybe two. If we go into reserved food situation from the start, I reckon we can currently go up to 18 months. If we restock and go on reserves, I a bettin' 3 years without tampering." The dwarf responded confidently.

"Can we build more storage room or concert some unused rooms?" Loriana asked, a few thoughts playing out in her mind. The dwarf nodded, brushing a hand through his long, curly beard. "Do so, please. I want a minimum 5 years on reservations with full stock." She finished.

"My lady, surely this is unnecessary!" Albeck neatly cried, already knowing the hit the renovations would take on the money that the crown owned. While in theory the queen could just demand such things, but it would upset the citizens and that would tip her hand.

"Yes, it is Albeck. You have seen the damages thus far, you know the risk of continuation in this manner. As we are, do you believe we can go another three years? Another two? Even one year from now?" She asked. She saw Albeck quick yet worried glance at his tools, and she already knew the answer.

To understand the full situation, one must understand how the crown had done the deals and acquired the goods. Every mine is owned by the crown, as is every farm and forest. However, the men who worked them are not forced to. They pay taxes, but get paid in goods as well. The crown gets 3/4th of all acquired from the mines and half a bushel for every bushel grown, and half the wood chopped. But they had been buying the rest as much as they could, and despite the tax in the land and the buying, they were barely able to appease these men.

"I suspect by the end of this year, we will be unable to purchase the goods they want, and our stored goods will quickly vanish, and after they own the refined goods that we own, they will want land, and people. By my honor, we should have stopped this earlier." She spoke, knowing the truth by Albeck nibbling his lip hard.

"Impose a small tax increase on all goods coming in, to be paid in coin or in part of the goods themselves." She said. Just like any kingdom, the tax from the land itself only went so far. The tax on imported goods, though, will certainly ease the load. It was incredibly low right now, and the increase will not be terrible. The citizens may complain a bit, but better than rioting.

"Richton, you and you alone will inform me of when the renovations are done. Don't let the staff know, we don't need whispering to reach the public. Albeck, send letters to all nations in our trade agreement of the coming changes. I'm leaving you in charge of numbers for this. But keep the tax lower than our competitors, just higher than it is now." She commanded, sitting straighter. The two nodded, and with a wave of her hand they were dismissed.

She looked up, seeing the face of Ganho in the painting she put up do long ago, sighing lightly as she looked away, the fire dimming as it ran it's course.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Nothing new to report or such, making steady work of what I have. I'm going to start spacing out chapters just a touch, so it's a bit more constant. Expect a chapter once or twice a week, but no more than that. I've reached the end of what I had pre-written and now i need to start again. Thanks for reading!**

 **Chapter 4: Stories**

The ebb and flow of life is one that many will never truly understand until their bones are brittle and their hair has turned to white or is gone and the flesh hangs from the bones. This is the knowledge that even the most surefire plans and ideas can fail.

Others often don't understand as such, and believe as they believe. They do not understand the sure possibility for failure always. This is most certainly true in children, and possibly even more so in Rowan.

Rowan was disgruntled, though in her own words 'shit faced cunt tired and pissed off angry'. The child had learned the words for cursing, but was still learning to curse effectively. The cooks had such interesting vocabulary.

And why was the child disgruntled? Well, she had finally gotten through the two maps and a few books by herself across the span of a few weeks, and not once was there a mention of Dagon. The kingdoms of Timlo, Drunlo, Aproth, Surfwi, Aswerd, Grinda, and Ogloth surrounded her kingdom, nothing about the kingdom of Dagon. And another book confirmed there has never been a leader named Dagon in any of the seven. She had even asked her sisters if anything had happened in the other kingdoms that caused a fresh ruler named Dagon to appear that wasn't in the books.

To see all her work simply for nothing was annoying and maddening and caused the longest session of pouting the small child had ever done in her life to occur. And it took plenty of sweets and stories from Angela before Rowan was back to her chipper self.

Of course, Grace took up the challenge and was doing much more extensive work in looking, but Rowan straight up said it wasn't worth it. If Rowan didn't get the reward, why bother? The reward, in this case, was her mother's attention. Between ruling the court, documents, and preparing Rina for the throne and Grace for becoming Rina's chief advisor, there was little time for Rowan.

And what did Rowan do with her spare time, some servants may ask? She played, of course! It's what all kids do. Well, she played as best as possible when she had no one else her age, no one to take true interest in, and nothing but books to read and no new toys. Some may claim that royalty gave her the best toys and plenty of things to do, but really it just gave her a few fancy dolls and a lot more clothes and space. She didn't even like the dolls, they were creepy.

She had out a simple rag doll, the grey thing only having button eyes and a stitched on grin she did herself. It didn't have a name or a gender or an identity, but it was her favorite. Simply because of its simplicity. It didn't have any magic runes for functions or dresses or clothes or anything. It didnt come from a courting prince across the lands nor did it come as a gift to help turn the wheels of trade. No, it was just a rag doll.

She flicked it's forehead, pouting. She was in one of her moods again, Graces words from breakfast that morning were enough to upset her but not enough to send her running for her tree. So here she was, slightly abusing her toy, simply because she knew she could get it fixed. Thus was the ignorance and innocence of a child.

"So, who's her father?" Angela asked softly from her perch by the door, the queen by her side as she watched Rowan toss the doll around, having made a few minutes to watch her youngest. Loriana would have loved to go out and talk and play and do all the motherly stuff a mother was supposed to do with her child, but couldn't. She simply didn't have the time. So here she was, making small talk with Angela. Or, at least, it had been small talk.

"Why, my late husband, Ganho, of course." The queen said, her stock answer for Angela. And for anyone else who dared question the legitimacy of Rowan, for that matter.

"My lady, the king died eleven years ago. She turned will turn 10 in scarce but 4 months from now. Which is not too long but, at best, she should be at least eleven and a half, to match in even the closest respects to the old king's last days." Angela replied scratchy like, for it wasn't hard for her to figure it out. She had raised the child practically, she knew her birthday and the king's death day, as old as she was. For despite her age, she had been well educated in her youth.

"Well, I wouldn't worry about it." The queen replied coldly, and Angela saw where Grace could acquire such a tone. Angela knew she struck a chord, knowing that to deeply question the legitimacy of Rowan was to ask to be retired, if not silently killed.

"As you command, my lady." Angels murmured, having decided to drop her next voicing of Rowan's diary, which was hidden just under the mattress "Well, it certainly is getting on in the day. I'm sure Rowan would like to come back in and get ready for supper, my lady." Angela murmured, gently moving onto the grass and out to the the sunny child, as Loriana looked to the sky for a few seconds, near the high sun before turning away with a sigh, heading to her room for lessons with Rina.

Angela easily convinced Rowan in with promises of stories of old, and today they were starting on demons. The queen may not like it, for she only truly approved things directly relating to the court. Angela, however, had been an old woman back when this queen was born, and raised on these legends of old creatures and fiends. She was nursed on tales of monsters and heros, nearly. Someone had to teach the new generation these tales.

Besides, Loriana hadn't taken Rowen to started any lessons, unlike Grace who was being prepping for either queen or adviser since she was Rowan's age, or Rina who had been training to become queen back when Rowan was barely 3. Regardless, Rowan should be having lessons with her mother and tutors, but Angela was doing a fine job herself.

Besides, Angela could tell by Rowan's bright smile and glittering eyes that she preferred her tales over lectures, especially from her mother could could be cold and snappy or from elderly scholars who would belittle her.

"So what are we starting on today?" Rowan asked, the youngest princess interested when Angela mentioned demons out in the courtyard. It got a cold shiver down the girl's spine but a grin on her face.

Angela made a point of always making it sound like she was giving Rowan important lessons to her mom and the court, but really it was just really cool stories and tales of old. Which was fine with the child.

As they finally got into the room of the youngest, Rowan sat on her large bed, grinning as Angel gingerly sat on the other end, the old woman sighing. With age came wisdom, understanding, and bone aches.

"Well, child, we are starting on the Lord's o' Hell. Many people call them by different names, but each layer of hell is ruled by a lord." Angela said, giving the simplicity answer. How could she even start to describe the millions of demon lords and kings and everything in between.

And thus began another lesson, one that would change the path of history beyond what the old seer could have thought. And so Angel spoke on for several hours, explaining the full version in time, slowly giving Rowan everything she would ever need. They did not have time for every lord of hell or every important demon, not even halfway through the most important names. But a starts a start, especially for such a complicated topic as this.

Rowan loved these stories, of course. Any bored person would. But beyond that, Angela was so detailed, so life like in her telling, it was like she was there. But more than that, she loved the action, heading of heros older than their kingdom fighting near god like beings and winning, their clever traps and sneaky tricks. It all got Rowan so giddy and happy, unlike anything else. Rowan swore one day, she would best each individual hero Angela spoke of, simply because Rowan knew the tricks before hand. If it took years of research to create the trap used on one of the many lust demons, but the trap was explained in mere minutes, Rowan believed she could easily learn them all.

"Ah, it appears we are out of time, my dear." Angela said after a few hours, the candles that were lit earlier now down to flickering twilights that were disappearing one by one. Rowan had since gotten into her bed clothes, a white, thin, and short night gown with her nondescript doll by her side, all tucked in.

"But why stop with Janos? What did he do?" Rowan yawned out, stretching as she wanted to hear more. Janos, whose story was now half told, remained in the air as Rowan wanted to finish it.

"Well, it's late dear. But don't worry, I'll remember to start up with him. He defeated a demon lord in the greatest way possible!" Angela chuckled, slowly getting up as her old bones creaked in protest.

"How?! Please tell me!" Rowan nearly begged, wanting to hear more. The poor farmer's boy story and his first encounter with a demon lord had her hooked.

"Tomorrow is another day, dear. I'll finish it up tomorrow." Angela promised, slowly getting up. Her bones creaked and her back ached as she shuffled out the door, just as the last candle went out. And with a finality that seemed darker than usual considering the previous conversation, the door slammed closed. Rowan pouted, curling up as she tried to will herself asleep.

This was the worst part about being a princess, Rowan swore. And swear she would, if the nightmares started up again.

The room wasn't ultra big, but it was big enough. Sparsely furnished, no real light, every sound had an echo that had an echo that had an echo for so long until only the gods far above could hear them.

She turned harshly, pulling her blankets and covers up around her all the more closely, getting curled up in all her fancy fabric blankets and soft pillows on her marred and tried to sleep. It was warm, but there was a bone shivering chill that didn't seem to want to leave her being. On nights like these, she wished she were some lowly peasant, or one off the cook's apprentices. While they lead much rougher lives, nights like these were much better for them. They had friends and family nearby, and fires to sleep near.

Rowan was lonely, she finally decided. She missed nuzzling up to her mother on a cold night such as this, or sneaking into one of her sister's room for the rest of the night. She hadn't done it in do long, yet she didn't dare go to them. Not anymore. Rowan would rather suffer in silence with these crippling nightmares than go to those that would rather hurt her instead. Neither sister would hit her, but she couldn't dare risk their biting words, despite them being the source of her worst dreams. Times like these, she prayed for s friend, knowing that if she could find one she wouldn't try to screw up, or annoy them,but she would cling to them like a lifeline. Especially when in this life she had only 5 people she really truly knew.

And in due time, she found a comfortable enough spot to go to sleep in, with just enough warmth to be undisturbed physically. However, the nightmares that wracked her all that night would send her spiraling into a vulgar stream of curses upon first light, covered in sweat and tears escaping her eyes.

Then the horrible nightmare would be added to her oh so cleverly hidden journal with all the others, and she would wash for breakfast with her handmaidens help as she tried to force the dark images of the night away.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Well, another one for you, hope you enjoy it as much as I did. If you have any advice about style, grammar, etc., please review or PM me!**

 **Chapter 5: Falling Angel**

Rowan, in the morning, had breakfast. This is not unusual, as most races and most people of those races had some form of breakfast. From the simplistic breaking of bread from a market to the royal food being served here, it was a simple time to eat and prepare for the day. No, the breakfast was normal by all rights. The meats were good, the drinks appropriate, the soft light enjoyable.  
It was the guest that were not normal. Royal advisers of Lord Dagon had graced the table of the Harkon family today. They had been coming by religiously every week, the demands getting steeper and more constant, but this was the first time they had intruded on breakfast.

As Rina had once said, they were blackmailing the royal family, plain and simple. They knew the limited military they had, and the large recourses they had. In truth, the three daughters of Loriana only knew that the situation was bad, as Loriana refused to talk of the guest they had now unless absolutely necessary.

It took Rowan all she had not to show how sick she was. These were bad people, and they smelled bad too. Like rotting fish and sewage. Of course, that was her mental excuse for this situation, her eyes not even glancing over her two sisters this fine morning. Rowan ate as quickly as possible, not tasting any of the fine meats that made up her first meal of the day. Usually, she savoured these days, enjoying the heavy meats that made her mouth water just thinking about, but not today. She wanted out, ignoring the strange looks from her sister and mother. The guest didn't seem to notice though.

Rowan was quick to escape, mentioning to her mom she was heading out to the garden. She may not have much to say at the second, but she always wanted her mother to know where she was. Just in case.

In case of what, or because of who, no one could say.

The garden did calm her, though. The putrid stink of the lands they called Lonin, where this supposed Lord Dagon ruled, did not breach the defense of wonderful scents here. The soft roses, the plentiful pine trees, the nearly overwhelming scent of lavender. She knew the gardener loved to make themes, this year was purple. So lavender was prevailing in scent. It was beautiful.

The garden seemed to have two layers. On both sides of the path, regular flowers grew. Colorful reds and yellows and a few orange and pink and the rare white made a wonderful distraction. Behind them were the trees, and between the trees, giant lavender bushes. So many colors and mixes it would make any nature lover's heart soar.

Rowan loved the garden. No, scratch that, she loved the outdoors. Much more than her sisters and mother loved them, at least. Mother hated staying outside for long, and Grace seconded her opinion. Rina wasn't that bad, the eldest sometimes finding comfort as well on this slow, winding path. The servants used the gardens as a short cut, and the guards patrolling were given a lovely view, but none would stay longer than absolutely required.

No one, that is, except Rowan and the gardener. The gardener, though, was forced to. It was his job in a nutshell: tend the garden. Rowan, though, was not. She chose to be out here, to wonder these beautiful paths and breath in the sweet scents and enjoy the warm sunlight as hardly even a chill stayed in the air this morning.

It was part of the reason why she loved her tree and hiding hole. It wasn't some stuffy corner in the castle, or dome unused room. It was the great outdoors, or as close as she could get. The only thing stopping her from the outside was a few walls and the guards. Really, if she tried, she bet she could escape, run wild and free.

But why bother? Yes, there were people out there, and more freedom, but no cooks yo make her meals, no servants to do the cleaning, no nothing. More than that, she would lose her family and Angela. Why be free when you are away from the only world you know, and you know your world I'd definitely better than anyone else's?

What is freedom when Rowan must change so much? She didn't know how to cook or clean or do most peasant work, and the only real things she could do was scholarly, which would trap her again.

As Rowan sighed and enjoyed herself, Richton was busy with his newest apprentice. Unlike the last few he turned from boys into real cooks that worked here or out in the cities, this boy wasn't brought on for his main talent, but rather his being.

This new boy was a dwarf, just like Richton. In fact, he was from an allied clan as well. His name was Barbontas, a young, stout boy of 12. While not old by human standards, to a dwarf he was still a pup playing grownup. So, he did the manual labor no other cook wanted. The cleaning and the scrubbing and the like. There were two reasons he was here as an apprentice of the cook.

First, he was not so distantly related to Richton himself, and his family called in a favor. Richton was happy to take him on in this way, actually. Dwarves, in his opinion, needed more good cooks. Why let the elves and the humans be well known in these areas but not the dwarves? While Barbontas may want to be deep in the mines or forage, instead here was was, on his way to being a cook.

The second reason was bittersweet to Richton. The old hag, Angela, had asked him to take him on when he was offered, but changed the situation. Instead of working during the day, Barbontas would work at night while the others slept, and his waking afternoons and mornings would be open, and he would be moved to befriend Rowan under the hags request.

Richton liked the girl pup. She was loud and obnoxious and was very proud. Hell, if she had a beard he would have thought her a dwarf at first glance! But even better, she said please and thanks, while appreciating his creations. Especially anything meat related. Unlike her sisters, she would personally thank the old dwarven cook on occasion! Ah, he was proud of that. Just like her mother, really. Loriana had her heated anger and frigid annoyance but was humble all the same. And Rowan was lonely as all hell's. Barbontas was a child by custom, and he acted like one. Plus he was about the size of Rowan, to boot.

But to take on the boy for something other than what he was annoyed the old dwarf to no end. Still, he beckoned the boy off, deciding now would be a good time as any. As Barbontas ran off, Richton smiled, turning as he returned to his beloved kitchen, not sticking around as he still had the guest and royal family, minus Rowan, to feed.

Barbontas would run through the garden, and he would soon bump into the princess. Though, he did not treat Rowan as such, not seeing her so much as one of his mistresses for his new job but as a possible friend for the lonely dwarf kid. And really, what was he to do, beg for forgiveness?

Rowan had responded in pleasure, not seeing the boy as a person who was subservient to her or who had done her wrong, but rather as a possible friend. And Rowan really wanted some of those.

"Sorry 'bout that." Barbontas began, chuckling as he rubbed the back of his head, Rowan chuckled, as he got up, offering her a hand. Rowan accepted it, pulling herself up. She did not know who he was, or where he came from, but he was new.

"It's ok, my fault. Hey, wanna play in the front yard?" She asked all at once, Barbontas not expecting that, instead expecting cruel words or harsh punishment. Instead, he grinned, and nodded as Rowan lead the way in a dead sprint. Her prayers, for once, had been answered. Or her diary read, one of the two.

And thus would begin the happy, playful friendship between the youngest royal daughter and the exiled dwarven boy, as quickly ran to the front yard to play. Only one set of physical eyes watched this happy bonding, and he was not amused, but pleased all the same. His master would love this information.

The children ran to the front yards that was filled with a warm and happy air, and inside the castle a much colder and sharper air was stirring.

"I do believe you have overstayed your welcomes." Loriana began, silently watching the three guest as they stiffened. After Rowan has ran off, the room had almost physically darkened, but with her precious youngster gone she could finally get to the point.

"This is thus the third year of your presence here, defiling my home. Had my husband been with us, you three would have been watching the crows pick your decaying heads apart from the first day you arrived. But I let you come, I gave you what you asked, and yet here you still are. You will leave, now. Should you or any other man from Lonin step foot in my kingdom, they will find themselves headless." she commanded softly, her voice the only noise in the whole room, echoing darkly as even the candles flickering flames silenced. She nodded once to the side, and 4 fully armored guards came into the room from the front door, 6 from the back.

"You whore pig, you will regret this!" The first man hissed, the second advisor agreeing. Only the third remained silent, but he was also the only one to rise with his hands in the air.

Loriana beckoned one of the guards close, and issued a command in his ear so silently not even the echos relayed her voice this time. The guard nodded, motioning with a forward hand to proceed.

Grace frowned, hand sliding to the only weapon she knew how to use. Loriana wasn't lacking in foresight, and knew that this was risky, but never did she suspect what happened next.

The middle man screamed, and jumped across the table at Grace, foot sliding across a sweet ham and causing him to push forward unruly, a short knife out now.

A bolt found its way into the man's leg, the only part that didn't put the princesses in danger, but that didn't end the man's life, nor spill his blood across Grace's favorite dress.

No, the bolt didn't do that. It was Grace's own knife that she had jabbed into the man's throat in his closeness that spilled his poor blood all over the purple silk, her other hand pushing his opposing wrist into the table, the knife finding home in the heavy wood. The other two were quickly taken out, as Grace leaned back, letting go of the still warm corpse.

Grace was in kinda a shock, truly. She had been doing some practice ever since she was first brought into the castle so many years ago, when it was just a story action she wanted to try. Well, she finally got some first hand experience, judging by the soft, yet painfully hot liquid across her face, as more spilled out from the man in burst, almost pulses. His heart was trying to continue on, even as he was dead.

The guards wasted no time now, forcing the two living ones out at spear point, and a few more entered at the queen's calling, the body drug off the table and taken away. Grace stayed silent, until two arms encircled her, pulling her into a silent hug.

Whereas the queen gave orders and demands, calls for cleaners and washers and gor someone to start scrubbing the floor, only Rina hugged Grace in her shock.

Rina knew Grace's fears, of her part time training, of the simple knife she was never without that had once been used by their father. They were sisters, by blood and heart. Rina knew everything, and knew how Grace never wanted to do it, and how shocked she must have been when it did work, something she had never done. Only on trees and post did she practice on, and those things never sprayed blood.

The guards drug the two living men outside, the first one bound and gagged, the other only had his hands bound. This man was the peaceful one, the one who negotiated and talked the most. He knew when the seal was done and the wine was spilled.

Rowan watched from afar with her new friend, both holding the other's hand as the guards plunged a sword through the first man's chest, as per orders of the queen. His head was quickly removed, and the second was loaded on his horse, blood across his clothes from the killing of his brother, and sent off.

Barbontas felt sick and weary of it, stomach curling and he nearly lost the breakfast he had yet to have. Akasha watched with dead eyes. staring at the glistening blade that had a long train of blood from point to handle and dropped off in little pellets to the ground. She bit her lip, to stop her tongue that wanted to slide out as she buried her head in the nape of her friends neck. Not to stop tears, for she was happy the man was dead, though it may look it. She buried her head from the light because she was too happy, too giddy about his departure from this mortal coil. She knew this was the first step to evil, from all the stories she heard from Angela.

Akasha refused this pleasure, faking tears into her friend's shoulder, already fearing the worst of herself. For if she was giddy about one man's death right now, how would she be in 5, or even 10 years?


	6. Chapter 6

**Ch. 6: War**

"Let it be known, henceforth, that any man from Lonin shall be deprived of all his possessions and sent back to Lonin, and his possessions sent to the queen. If said man is armed in any fashion, he is to be killed immediately. By orders of the crown, Queen Loriana." This proclamation was already surging forth across the country, being brought to the wall, to the greatest defense of the kingdom. Many copies were already being printed, and in several languages, to be in every town and village.

Loriana was talking with the leader of her forces, discussing all that needed to be. Everything from money needed to better srm soldiers to money for training recruits and so on. War was a business game, after all.

It had been a week since that fateful morning when she broke the traditional pact of neutrality and had the first real execution of an enemy in over three hundred years. Many were already calling her 'Loriana the Blooded' and so on, but it was the right move.

A week is a lot of time, no matter who you are. 1 week, or 7 days, or 168 hours, or 10,080 minutes, or 604,800 seconds. A week after the execution, so much had happened yet wasn't too big to draw her attention away from her war.

Rowan had a new friend, Barbontas. That was nice, for everyone. Like all children, Rowan got bored. Thus was annoying for all involved. While Loriana wanted to be more pleased, she hadn't the time.

Rowan had actually hugged Grace as well, in that span of time. It was shocking for the queen, certainly, for it had been almost two years since the two sisters had embraced. It happened the afternoon of the killing, and while Grace was still covered in blood. Regardless, it was still sweet, and brought a smile to Loriana's face every time she thought of it.

All three of her daughters had started training in a chosen weapon, starting the day after blood was spilt. This was under Loriana's direct orders, of course. While she never wanted her darlings to know the ways of war, that breakfast showed how close it would be between life and death. So many things could have happened that might have ended Grace's life. Her not having a knife, or if her would-be killer used a sword, or if she hadn't trained herself.

Rina had gone the way of the sword, very basic but very nice. For her, Loriana had a rapier from one of their ancestors brought back to Rina. There was some boring history behind it, but it was a blade. Better to protect her eldest daughter's life than to gather dust in the cellars of the treasury.

Grace, in an odd twist, had abandoned her knife training for a bolas. Albeck had suggested that the sudden bloody attack had scared her away from up close combat. Loriana didn't need a special family heirloom for Grace, they had one that fit her well enough in stock.

And the youngest had chosen a crossbow, a light one for now, but Richton had informed her of her plans to get up to a heavy crossbow. While Loriana wanted her to be trained in ways more befitting to stop an assassination, this was fine. Even trained, it was unlikely her using a sword would do more than waving it around. A long range weapon would do her well.

Over this week as well, taxes have gone up a bit more for goods from inside the kingdom and goods coming in. While people complained, there was no denying it wasn't the worst it could be.

There are many other, smaller events that could be described, but they all summed up to mostly unimportant for the task at hand. Rooms had been renovated in the castle for more food storage, and had been restocked. Soldiers were being trained. Several neighboring kingdoms have agreed to an alliance against Lonin. A war treaty was drawn up to officially document the war's existence. So on, and so forth.

What was important, though, was the rebuilding of their physical might. The Wall was being reinforced, more so than ever before, civilians were joining the soldiers again and becoming true soldiers. A small selection of siege weapons had already been built, more to come. Anti-siege weapons were being built. How much more was needed for a war?

But, that's enough of Loriana's side of things, and of the royal family buisness. The leader of the whole of kingdoms army, Lord Balto, was receiving updates on the soldiers as he inspected a map of the kingdom after his long ride back to the Wall. Loriana could control some of the stuff here, but he controlled the details.

"My lord, the building of the oil drops has completed, your orders?" The soldier asked, as they stepped outside of the kingdom, looking at the wall from the view their enemies will. Lord Balto waved the man off, the soldier riding back in.

The kingdom of Rilia was surrounded by mountains, a large ring of them that cradled the kingdom. The mountain chain continued from the northern most point onwards for hundreds of thousands of leagues, but this here was the end of the mountain ranges. A few dozen thousand leagues to the south, a new chain started. Unless an army tried to climb the mountains and descend from the sides of the kingdom's boundaries, there was only 1 way in.

The Wall of Therasia, or just the Wall, was the kingdom's best defense on this front. In the history books, the wall has been seized countless times before the other kingdoms realized neutrality didn't mean weak. The simple grey-white it shown made many think it was just a super sized castle wall.

The Wall stretched between the two mountains that made up the mouth of the kingdom. It reached well past the first major cliffs of both mountains, and dug in well into both. Across its surface were uniform archer slits, big enough for archers to shoot out and not get shot. This was it's starting and original defense strategy. They could wait out the enemy, picking them off one by one with archers. A hail of arrows and bolts from the high heavens. Since then, more has been added, mostly recent.

Above the only door, which was big enough for a trade group to wander through comfortably with room, was now a dozen pot holders that would hold giant pots of boiling tar or oil. Two watch towers stood in front of the wall now, one to both sides of the walls ending. Only a few soldiers used these two small, almost hidden towers, who were on guard at all times for enemy troops. While not good for a fight, they were good before said fight.

The door itself was heavy wood and iron, and there were three of them throughout the tunnel the thick Wall made as well as one for both outsides. The insides had more pot holders for anything from oil or tar to chamber pots, which if the enemy had somehow broken in, would destroy them easily.

This wall was the kingdom's symbol of their stone clad will, and would hold. The question was, what were they truly facing here?

It obviously wasn't your common man, for a day after the execution, both bodies had revealed themselves to be some strange hybrid of snake and man. Naga, as the report had said. Polymorphed for a short time to appear human.

Lord Balto was worried for only one reason. He didn't know his enemy. People of Lonin was a term, not a description. Not a face to which he could dtsb. A title, at best. And they were Naga who looked human, and they needed a way to reveal this threat now before it was too late.

Lord Balto checked his map again, checking too spots to send troops to defend some mountain passes before he turned his horse, heading back in. The first giant door closed behind him, a heavy bar of iron smacking into place to bar it. And so did the remaining 4 doors. He wheeled about on the inside, nodding.

The wall didn't cast a large shadow on this side, for the sun's journey laid with the Wall, making what would be a giant shadow miniscule in comparison.

There was a huge training camp here, the biggest in the kingdom. Blacksmiths, fletchers, builders, and so forth mingled in the growing shade of the wall. The streets were stone, the buildings were stone, and so forth. Here was most protected in all the kingdom.

No weapon of war could pierce above the wall, and below the wall was the strongest stone in the kingdom. The only way into the kingdom was to get through the doors of the wall or around and up the mountains. It was possible for a small group of soldiers to go through the mountains, but any more would perish certainly. It was a long way up the mountains, and very dangerous even got the smaller ones. No food was on those mountains, nor any certain clean spring.

The rule of thumb for the mountains: No more than ten, no less than five. A good squad of soldiers usually was twenty strong. So twenty men climbing steep, possibly frozen cliffs that went near vertical, carrying not only the needed clothes for warmth and basic food for travel -which was already very heavy and demanding for even the best soldier- but also armor and weapons. Lumber for fire as well.

He nodded, watching as men high above, near the top of the wall, were building more things for the war. And that's what this was. A war.

No enemies yet didn't mean no enemies. Just that they haven't been spotted. He gave a few commands out, for them to keep it up as he went back to his station.

And across the land, many other kingdoms had already started the fight. Naga had been spotted in two of the coastal kingdoms, and several skirmishes had already broken out. And while many might debate on if the Wall was worth the renovations when so much stood between them and these creatures, it was also true that if -gods forbid- these creatures keep going and defeat the other kingdoms, Rilia would be the best place to hold them out.

Lord Balto turned to the Cabin of the Religious, which was a home owned by dozens of men and women who formed a group who, day in and day out, prayed to their individual gods and goddesses. With so many lands and so many different groups of people, a priest or priestess for each god above was already enough for one giant cabin.

Balto had to hold back a gag, already smelling the mixed scents from the cabin. While a good bit of religions didn't burns stuff for their god/s, many did. Incense to meat to herbs, all curling and mingling in such a tight space curled the nose hairs of the leading lord. He could smell them a good bit away, as well.

The ironic thing was Lord Balto wasn't even a religious man. He fought by way of the man. Not by way of the god. He was master of himself, not some deity high above. Sure, he was respectful to these men, but not very convinced. And for good reason.

Each said something different and contradicting of another, and where one might say victory was assured, another would proclaim defeat unless they pay more homage to one god or another. But the soldiers only saw their individual god's words from these men and women, nor the priest nor the priestess individual words.

Lord Balto knocked once on the door as he got off his horse, tying the reins to a post. An older gent opened the door, the man was some priest or another of a god of doorways, and always answered, eventually. The msn was old, hard of hearing, and very old and somewhat senile. He murmured dome blessing, as Balto moved in, woozy from the smell already.

He started going priest to priest, advocate to advocate, tallying up the general sayings. 14 for assured victory, 17 for victory at a steep cost, 12 for defeat assured, and 20 for defeat unless we pray more. And about 3 or 4 saying unknown.

About half and half, and no better for assuring victory from all the gods. Despite being a less than religious man, Balto wouldn't say no to some heavenly smiting of his enemies.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: I'm sorry I haven't posted a new chapter in a bit, things have been hectic. I'm also glad to announce that I am still writing, just off and on. Still hope for a chapter every two weeks or do.

Ch 7: The Reach of Dagon, pt 1.

The war, on paper, started on second Morndas of Second Seed. After the rest of the month was calm, many only complained of the tax hike instead of possible invasion. When the month after was so calm save for the training of soldiers, many disregarded the war. It was just another thing to shrug off. Oh yes, the other kingdoms were suffering, but Rilia was so secure and do inland no one thought it would truly touch them.

The other kingdoms were most certainly realizing the force of this war. Two kingdoms were already overrun by the sheer number of Naga, and three more were isolated from help. Refugees were pouring into the other countries, to rejoin the war as soldiers or as enlisted help. No one single person -outside of Rilia- was unaffected. And already the final two other controls were fighting to keep the invaders out by tooth and nail.

The civilians of Rilia, though, we're blissfully unaware. Trade had stopped, yes, but other than that all was good. Crops were being harvested, pockets were full of coins, and most were pleased with life in Rilia.

But that was in Last Seed, the 8th month of the year.

It started on the first day of Hearthfire, a Fredas. The war had truly begun. Not with bows or soldiers or magic, but cries of fear. The house of the Religious advocates started a horrendous cry when dawn broke the sky. This was normal, for this happened every day thus far. But now it was pure terror and fear they cried from, not their gods nor blessings they wished for.

It took hours to calm them all, for they built on one another's fear, a single outcry of terror would be echoed back instantly with at least ten more. The cries were of being abandoned and forsaken and doomed and so much more. Very depressing, and many of those people were very descriptive of how it would occur. There was major variations, but a few things were common throughout.

First, the attack would not be from the other side of the wall. Not even a single troop. Second, it was sea coming for them. Not just troops, but the sea. Third, cries of the demon would break their defenses.

That was a week ago. Today was the 8th of Hearthfire, and the first battle was finally starting, almost 4 months since the war started. However, the size of this battle alone made up for the agonizing wait.

It started with waves of Naga from the inside. Luckily not in the camps, but unluckily from inside the wall. From the new reinforcements. Most of the afternoon was a clash of swords and arrows and the occasional burst of magic from either side. It was well past noon when the water started.

When Lord Balto would be asked to describe the battle, he would say "Exactly as we thought it would go, until the sea showed up."

It started with a rumble, sometime in the mid afternoon. Until now, everything was like a regular battle. Arrows, swords, magic. The only difference was that these creatures were Naga, not truly humanoid. In fact, many would call it casual. Then the Wall cracked.

From the area right above where the Naga were spilling out, it started to crack. There were two spots like this, the middle right beside the main doors, and off to one side. Then the cracks spider shattered upward, a jagged and twisting line in both areas going out word and splitting. The human troops turned tail to regroup, and the two areas of the Wall burst like dams. Water rushed out of them in a giant wave, sweeping up unfortunately soldiers and Naga and spilling them out towards the kingdom. Many soldiers swam with the current as they could, finding refuge on top of buildings as the water continued to pour out in waves. Anyone who was in that water wout confirm it was salt, by the stinging in their eyes and burning of their would and the taste in their mouths.

Lord Balto, who had been mostly guiding the battle along from the back rather than be up front, was lucky to get on top of the mess hall building within seconds of the first wave. Many people were not lucky. Those who had been on horseback were almost certainly dead, hooked and sunk to the bottom with their steeds. Many in heavy armor or covered on open would would also die. The armor would drag them down with the wave, and those with injuries would be unable to function with the pain. However, most survived by dumb luck. Civilians had ran after the first hour of fighting, and many soldiers not in heavy gear could float and get to the tops of buildings with the help of the waves, which acted as if a dam really had broke.

Naga 'swam' with the wave instead of carrying on the fight, and it propelled them out of the city camp and into the kingdom. In minutes which felt like hours, the waves of pressured water subsided, a layer of water on the ground that once lapped at building tops was now at the height of windows. And it lowered quickly, soldiers jumping down after such a strange type of magic. Lord Balto started his rally, a small party sent after the Naga as trackers for the inevitable hunt.

Magic it had to be, for the pure amount of water that had cracked the wall. Salt water had to be carried in flask from other countries, for Rilia was land locked. And when the wall was inspected by the recovering soldiers who dared to look, both areas the Naga swarmed out of and where the water burst out was hollow but completely drenched.

The injured were tended, and the dead shoved into various buildings for now. And this is where the people of Rilia were finally introduced to war after so many centuries of peace. Out of the 20,000-ish men, almost four thousand were confirmed dead and almost seven thousand injured and unable to fight.

Lord Balto rallied his men, bringing them in the drenched court yard where they often trained. Water ran along walls and cracks like waterfalls, streams ran along the flat stone sheets that made up the floor here.

"People! This day was a black mark on our kingdom's honor, one that we all are at fault for creating. For centuries no enemy has breach our defenses, and yet now not a measly one or two runners but their whole forsaken force has gotten through. Now, we ride to salvage our honor. Those unable to fight are to stay here and begin salvaging with the civilians if they return. 1 in every 4 healers will stay behind to oversee the wounded. Everyone else, with me!" Lord Balto cried out, the warriors yelling in agreement as the Lord lead the way, following the trail the scouting party left behind. No horses were ridden, for most were injured or dead from the crashing waves, and not many wore heavy armor, but they all had rage in their hearts and fire in their eyes.

And thus, Lord Balto started on a warpath following the warpath of the Naga of Lonin. There is much to tell on that end, but first there is one last thing to be said about the wall.

After the warriors left and the wounded moved away from the wall, and we'll into that night, everyone not on guard duty was awoken harshly. The moon was full, and the stars were bright. The wall loomed high above, and all was normal one moment. The next, a powerful boom and shaking rattled the group of wounded and healers, followed by a terrifying roar of stone and water. When the watchmen didn't report on it, it was because there was no need.

The wall had broken in on itself, the ancient defense had been reduced to a mountain of rubble the size of what looked to be an actual mountain. Water gushed from it like blood, bubbling tar and gunk squishing out in burst from some places. Where the emblem that once stood so proudly used to be, a large void stood, blacker than the night around it. A large, single piercing black eye that winked out with the void in seconds. And thus, the gods promises have come true.

Now, we turn our sights away from the war front, and once again look to the royal Harkon family, who were enjoying a nice rationed supper. Curriers would not reach the family for a day and a half, even non stop and on horseback. On foot it could take up to five days, if not ten.

Rina had finished early, heading off to practice with her rapier some more before going to bed. The darkness between the two older sisters and Rowan was still there, but over the months had lessened considerably. Rowan was proud to say both her sisters found her barely tolerable when speaking now.

Grace soon followed, if only to watch and rest and talk with her sister. The two walked off, Rina and Grace silently linking hands. The two had only grown closer since that early day in May. The blood on Grace's hands had only faded with her two sisters kind words, not her mother's.

Rowan finished up, heading towards the kitchen to meet up with Barbontas since he should be about done with working and they could hang out.

That left Loriana, who had only picked at the food. This war was all over her, etching lines in her face like water over stone, her eyes more hard set and colder than just months ago. War had a funny way of changing people, even if it only rarely changed itself.

She could see how well her daughters were getting along now. She was never blind, she saw the loathing her eldest two showed her not so long ago, and yet now it was better. Not perfect, but better. But there was a price in this.

First, a man died at Grace's hand, causing so much damage both mentally and emotionally. Second, Loriana herself was mostly out of the picture.

Even before the war had started, she had been removing herself from her kids bit by bit. She never took Rowan on for lessons, even of the simplistic kind. She stopped spending hours in a good book beside Grace in the study, and she stopped lessons with Grace in everything. She stopped almost every lesson with Rina except for bare necessity for when Rina wore the crown and took her title as queen.

She could remember countless hours with Rina, since before they moved into this secluded castle, teaching her as well as any tutor. Sure, she hired the best for every subject she could, but then there was no tutor for being a queen, now was there?

And yet, here she was. Alone. Yes, she still saw her children every night and occasionally throughout the day, but every day it seemed she was in their lives just a bit less than the day before. Rina worked more and more with her rapier, so lovingly called 'Impaler'. Grace spent more and more time reading alone or watching Rina train, taking notes on whatever subject she wanted. Rowan would either be playing with Barbontas, being with her sisters, or trying out the new crossbow Richton got early on when the war just started.

All day, Loriana spent dictating how spending would go and what changes to make to the current staff and what to sell to keep some kind of fortune in the vault. She never ate breakfast and skipped lunch only to pick st food at supper. Even she could admit this was hardly living.

"Albeck." She called out in a soft tone, the advisor flowing into the room and to her side with calm, even strides. "Meet me in the study in 5 minutes, tell no one." She whispered, getting a grim nod out of him.

He stalked away, and Loriana forced a few bites of the sweet meats down. Rowan claimed they were really sweet tonight, with a tang. They tasted like bark now, drizzled in cold water. She sat up, a servant starting the clean up at her nod, heading to the study. He was there, faithfully waiting by the chair, watching his tools like they would move on their own.

"Mi'lady, recent trade has…" Albeck started, thinking this was just another refresher on today's losses in monetary value. He was stopped by the look in her eyes, defeated and uncaring.

"Mi'lady?" He asked after a few seconds of waiting, tugging at the edge of his fancy clothing, biting his lip.

"When this war is over, I want Rina to take my place." She replied cooly, Albeck blanching at this. Yes, Rina would be 18, the age of maturity. However it was at the current queen's death or command that brought the crown onto Rina's head.

"Mi'lady Loriana, you must be unwell. Please, sleep on this and…" Albeck slowly dropped off, that expression sharpening on him, like a sickle through a rib.

"I am well and in sane mind set when I say that I want her queen when this war ends. Sooner, if need be. She is more than ready, more than willing, and I no longer am. I never thought this war would drain me as such, but I guess even old hopes rarely die." she spoke calmly and surely. Albeck could see the toll it took on this woman, who aged from a respectable 29 looking queen to a 50 looking royal leader. The lines and wrinkles from the stress were taking their toll, and he could already see grey in her hair.

"Understood Mi'lady. Should I inform her?" Albeck asked, wondering how this should go down.

"Not yet, give it time. I am sure there are records that need this written somewhere, please start that as soon as you can." Loriana started, Albeck nodding. She waved him off, the rest of her voice failing her. He left, like her voice had, leaving her to stare into the dying fire.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Sorry for the previous chapter, my readers. I know I said that it would be once a week, and it had been exactly two, but please don't kill me! Life has been hectic and, as of posting Ch. 7, am just now starting Ch. 8. Please R and R, and I hope you enjoy. Also, I am using the Elder Scrolls calendar system, but that does not make this a skyrim crossover, I just needed a better system than our modern one.**

 **Ch 8: The Reach of Dagon, Part 2**

If there was someone who could show you a map of Rilia, of her perfect cover of mountains and rivers and the relatively rocky ground, they would. Or if they could paint you a picture of how the rocky mountains, some snow capped even now, surrounded it and show how the sun's fingers and rays burst forth all at once in the early morning, they would happily labor at it for years to show their pride. But very few people are good painters, and even fewer good map makers, even now.

But anyone can describe to you how they would look. Rilia is not overly large, but large enough to be prosperous but not big enough to be easily invaded. One may compare it to a manor standing beside a palace. The manor is more than big enough for your whole family and servants for everyone and staff abundant, but the palace would be so much bigger for every desire you could ever imagine, and then everything your extended family could wish for.

Ths was Rilia, safely tucked into the hold of the mountains, one real way in, one real way out. The rivers all flowed from the mountains and out of the kingdom from underground passages, unusable by any man or air breathing creature. In reality, if Rilia wasn't prosperous and wealthy, no one would inhabit the area. Out of the way for good trading paths before they were diverted and secluded enough to be forgotten, plus the dangers of a rock slide on all fronts all too real.

Now the kingdom was a death trap, as the Naga warriors from Lonin moved deeper in. With the head start from their lord's intervention, they had made steady headway. Yes, a few warriors were lost, but they were almost innumerable and unstoppable. When Lord balto would follow, he wouldn't even need the scouts. The Naga left a trail of destruction in their wake after they had organized. The main roads were used for travel, everything able to be broken shattered on the way by, trees chopped and burned, the paths covered in ash and broken foliage, and the occasional body. The first town they came across was called Unistun.

Unistun was a simple farming and trade village, a stop to the trade capital where currencies could be exchanged if needed, and where lesser trade goods can be sold off before the good market could be reached deeper in the kingdom. The lack of trade had reduced the towns normally active area into a dull, slow town. The hike of taxes had reduced it to dry and annoyed.

The Naga had reduced it to rubble and fire. No one was spared in the assault, and any who escaped that were not quickly found would be horrified by the memories for years. The Naga attacked as one, with such a savage ferocity it had broken the few stone buildings in their first attack. They left it, not taking anything beyond basic provisions. This wasn't plundering, this was straight up savagery. When the large group of soldiers had stumbled upon the ruins of Unistun, it was grief stricken and horrified they had left, aiming to catch up instead of staying behind to help survivors. A small group of soldiers and a single healer remained, to help all that still lived. A small amount of 5 people to help a broken village.

The next few stops were a half a dozen farms that had been devastated along the way, no towns or villages popping up towards the trade capital. Each farm was burned, livestock slain with earnest, and the farm hands and surfs and children and men and women and all manner of the living were killed. The soldiers followed the slithering tracks of snake ends that could not and were not hidden. And it was fear in their hearts that spoke of what was next.

 _Lightwell_

In the past, Lightwell was founded way back when the kingdom was also founded, when the Harkon family was just starting to rise in power and trade had finally started kicking in and out of the kingdom. Before, Unistun was the powerhouse of trade. Then a magician or a wizard or a sorceress or some other kind of magic user or faker had proclaimed that a beam of light had shot of the main well in the center of town in the middle of the night, and pointed in the direction of the mountains, past a forest. A mine was soon dug, and silver was found. That would be the third biggest mine today and the largest supplier of iron and silver ore. The forest was filled with money, as well. In the form of excellent lumber. Whether the stories of light and heavenly guidance are to be believed, and there are many to be had, it doesn't matter. People in the days of the new kingdom believed, and thus they grey rich. The growth and search of money spread, and the stories of the well of light with them. The town grew rich, buildings grew taller than most other towns, and it stole the title of trade center of Rilia.

It still was the trade center of Rilia, but not directly because of magic or stories anymore. Oh, there was a mages guild sect in the town, but that didn't bring in trade unless you believed any more of the idiotic stories that sprung up. No, it was location within the kingdom that made it so strong in trade. Directly south of Balmoral, which was the capital, almost all roads lead to one of the two major cities. And if a road lead to one, there was a subsided path that lead to the other. Because of how populous and wealthy it was, there was constant debate on if it should be capital instead of Balmoral.

And now the wealthy city was under attack. It was now well past dusk, and fires had started on the southern part of the city. No large group of soldiers had been posted here, for attacks on the side would be more tactical, and there wasn't a very large number here in the first pace. Not even half of the number posted at the Wall. The Naga swarmed this weak point, and nearly broke through. It took nearly an hour for a large amount of reinforcements to arrive, but the occasional citizen had fluttered into the ranks, regular knives and such joining swords and axes and maces and flails. Soon even the Mage's Guild sect had joined in, setting the odds even for both sides. The Naga could not push further in, but they could not be pushed out either.

This was still the night of the 8th of Hearthfire, a Fredas night like any other. The Naga kept up the attack, fighting like rabid beasts rather than creatures with sound minds that night. Burst of light and sound broke past the near deafening clang and clinking of swords and shields, as fires were light for the long attack. It wasn't long before a low wooden building caught flame, and though it was only a slow spread it was a bright as the supposed well from so long ago. This was a saving grace, as it shown what was happening for the approaching force, lead by Lord Balto.

It was the first hour of the 9th day of Hearthfire when Lord Balto broke against the back line of the Naga, the two forces breaking against the enemy force. It was a slaughter for a few minutes, surprise and positioning leading to many Naga dying, but the scattered as soon as they could, splitting off into so many individuals instead of the rabid force they were not too long ago. A cry rose in the back of the Lightwell force, and soon another force of Naga were spearheading towards the trapped middle.

It was chaos, many would later claim. Misunderstandings of how they got around the soldiers stationed at Lightwell would lead to arguments and fights for years to come, but it really was a mystery to the humans. The Naga force seemed to grow from the shadows, and that was the key to the backwards attack of the Naga. To describe it would be like a sandwich. From outside of Lightwell looking in, first was Lord Balto's army swarming against the first and obvious Naga force, both sides about even in pure numbers. After the trapped Naga was the trapped soldiers from Lightwell, who were also filtered with civilians and mages. And on the other side of the trapped soldiers were a second, smaller force of Naga, who had flanked around.

The fighting went on for what felt like hours but must have only been minutes as countless soldiers fell from both sides. Then the Naga did something drastic, something many would question for centuries after hearing shady and half truthful tales of this battle.

The trapped Naga all turned on the central point of the Lightwell soldiers. Now, even a civilian could tell you turning your back on an attacking foe was as idiotic as a drunks midnight ramblings. And it was, for Lord Balto and his men fell upon the Naga as they all pointed towards the center of town. Backs were slashed open where armor was limited or weak, their tails anchored to the ground by spears and swords, which sliced through the thick tail's tough and slick scales just barely.

The Naga which were not pinned down surged on this point in the Lightwell soldiers, where the numbers were weaker. The soldiers stuck closer to buildings when they could, left less room from behind for a sword to find a home in their back or neck. But too many had shifted to this beloved spot, as civilians who were out of fight and unused to the effort of war tried to scamper along the buildings to try and be ignored. With only a thinning and unfilled line of soldiers on both sides, neither were prepared for the sudden onslaught that surged forward from both sides as Naga basically hurled themselves into the soldiers, getting wounds and deaths from the ridiculous attempt but forcing the two parts together.

Now, even a civilian could tell you also that you never want to be caught between two forces of enemies with a very limited number of soldiers. This battle caused the spread of such redundant information to spread out easily.

The effect was instant. The few soldiers between the two lines fell like leaves in autumn, and the remaining Naga, estimated around 2000 living and healthy, shot into Lightwell as Lord Balto and his warriors had to get over the small mounds of the dead that they themselves had killed, the corpses of Naga long and their tails thick, taking time to step over unless one threw themselves over them, which several did. But it was ultimately useless, really. The Nags were too fast, the Lightwell soldiers not moving besides weak movements to follow. Their leader, a lord named Drathn laid dead in the street, trampled and torn asunder, as a leader order was in shambles, so many dead it was impossible to tell who was the leader, until the cries of 'Stop Them!' rose from Lord Balto, springing them into action.

But, even if confusion only lasted a few seconds across the free soldiers, it was enough. The Naga had dispersed into the city, scattering like roaches and varying where they split off into the city. Out of the 2000 Naga that escaped the battle, almost half scattered into the lower city area, and almost half split into the upper city area again, leaving a small amount to escape from various roads and paths and continue the war.

This is all the truth of the Battle of Lightwell that is undebatable, what is certain and what is pure fact. There are many other, hotly debated topics of the battle that no one can truly confirm nor deny. One idea that is popular is that the majority of the Lightwell forces survived the battle, but the logs of numbers were burned in the attack, do no definite answer can be given. Then there is the thought that the mage guild made up the majority of the fighters, but soldiers will say that few helped, and rumors stand that an order was given so that no mage entered the fray. This is also baseless, but an entertaining thought. There is also the spicy talk of a traitor from Lightwell helping the Naga flank around to perform their idiotic rescue. As in all wars, there were traitors, and the ones found were killed by displaced civilians after. But none were convicted of directly helping the Naga, only of turning on their fellow soldiers.

Now, there is one truth that never truly saw the light, that the mages guild did have knowledge of and never reported for weeks until one rogue mage told and rumors spread in the taverns and alleyways of many cities that any mage of the guild was supposed to discourage the continuation of the rumors. The rumors centering around the knowledge of portals, of magic doorways, of secret entrances and paths, of dark magic none dared to speak about. The rumors that the guild could have warned the soldiers, and never did. The truth is nearly impossible to get to, but with the right amount of coin and the right gears turned, one could learn that the guild knew of centers of magic being created before the battle started, and that as the battle wore on Naga poured from these portals like rain from a heavy cloud.

For the next week, skirmishes and battles nearly leveled the city. The Naga took no prisoners, no hostages. What they could not take they burned, what they could not destroy was defaced. Buildings burned, people died, and war was waged. It wasn't a short amount of time to purge as many Naga as possible from the secondary capital, and it is believed that as many as 3 out of every 10 Naga who invaded the city that night escaped.

It was on the 17th of Hearthfire when the city was finally calmed, and the remaining soldiers set out again. Scouts had been sent ahead to inform the capital, and so far no battles at the capital had taken place, as all available soldiers had either gone there, for that was where it was believed to be where the final battle would take place, or the castle of the royal family.

The center of the destruction had to be the Trade Center, of course. Or the Marketplace, or just the middle of town as a whole. Wide open, stalls forming a circle around the edge of a large open space, the well of light from the myths standing simply in the middle. All the streets going this direction were all shops and forges and fletchers and every kind of vender imaginable.

The center of Lightwell, once so revered, was now ash and cinder. Every vender was turned to splintered wood and burned, each store broken into and ransacked, and the well in the middle of town was collapsed in on itself, spewing black gunk from the pile of rocks it now was.

Thus, the citizens of Rilia would never again jest of war or of its misfortunes ever again, for they finally had their first taste of it in so long.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Sorry for the long waits between chapters, life is crazy. I was going to post it almost 2 weeks ago, but I wasn't too happy with the first draft and the second draft wasn't too much better. I'm not quite as pleased with what I posted as I want to be, but it's decent, and it was out of my field of comfort. So for a first try, how do you think it was? R and R, my dear readers.**

 **P.S.: I claim only the OCs and self made ideas/things, everything else is made by others such as ElderScrolls, Wizards of the Coast, ect.**

 **Ch 9: The Fall**

Rowan could only fall back, clutching her chest as her breath failed her. A burst of pain spread from where her heart felt like it stopped beating, the 'Thump-Thump' that followed in her chest like a clock stopping it precious ticking. It felt like an eternity of falling, as if she was falling from her room in the tower, as if she had jumped out the window herself, but backwards.

And then her back hit the ground, and she had to bite back a curse which threatened to spill past her lips, followed by her head in slow motion and the curse did burst forth, a phrase Barbontas so lovingly taught her, a burst of pain echoing from both her chest and head, as she laid there for a few seconds, looking up past the leaves of the tree, the dwarf boy watching her with wide eyes.

"Well, I think you said it right for once. You ok? Or did ya crack like stone?" The boy with a beard asked good naturedly, jumping down just slightly more gracefully than she did, as he hadn't gone higher than a few branches, compared to Rowan's new record.

"Yeah, I'm fine 'Bon." The princess chuckled, and seeing his pout brought true laughter out of her. It was funny, as it was easily seeable past his thin beard. Unlike Richton, whose beard was thicker than anything she ever felt, Barbontas' beard was thin and just starting. Over the few weeks since they first met, Rowan was amazed to see it slowly grow, and how he maintained it. It was just a straggly thing, but her 'Bon was very proud of it.

"Damn, that was high missy. Did ya touch the top?" The dwarf boy asked, and Rowan was glad to see that bright light that flickered into his eyes. The dwarf was not a good climber, and he had been so excited to see her get so high. It was cute, the royal had to admit.

"Just an inch from." She lied, knowing she had been at least four or five branches away from actually being able to shimmy to the top. But she couldn't deny him that grin. She sat up slowly, brushing her back off as best as she could, sighing gently. The fall had hurt, and in the back of her mind she realised how easy it would be for her to have died on this fall. A branch to the neck, head bouncing off a rock, or breaking her back.

But those thoughts faded like smoke, dissipating into the fun of the afternoon. The two couldn't always play around or even be with each other that much. Barbontas worked in the kitchen, and Richton, while very nice to Rowan and was maybe sweet on her mother, was very strict and a slave driver for the limited staff they had, which meant Barbontas was often cooking and cleaning and running food just about anywhere, or anything the older dwarf could think of. Rowan herself had lessons with Angela and her mother most mornings and every afternoon was spent shooting the crossbow she could hardly lift and seemed to shoot her back just as far as the bolt went, which was always off target.

Richton had came through for the child, finding her a standard 'heavy' crossbow. A normal crossbow, or a 'light' crossbow, was about 4 pounds normally. Very reasonable for a child to at least hold and aim, the recoil was a bit strong with a 'light' crossbow, but do able. Then there was the 'heavy' crossbow. This sucker weighed twice as much as the 'light' crossbow, and took so long to reload. It wasn't hard to lug around, but aiming took her a good long while, and the recoil sent her sprawling back quite often with the bolt more often than not ending up in the ceiling, on the floor, or out a window. Rowan was proud to admit, though, that she had hit the target a handful of times with the beast of the weapon.

"So, when does your ma want you to get back inside?" Barbontas asked, carefully balanced on a tree root as Rowan brushed herself off. She had climbed trees before, for what kid hasn't? But she had to admit it was more fun with the dwarf boy around, and much more exciting.

"Eventually." Rowan chimed, gently pushing him as he nearly lost his balance, sending him on his backside as she giggled, moving over and sitting by him as he watched her. It was a nice day, really. No heavy lessons with Angela or her mom, and the only thing she had to do tonight was more flying back from a crossbow blast.

"Well, I'm not sure how long I have, but I'm sure I have a while." Barbontas responded, and as if it was testing fate, there was Richton entering the gardens, his calls echoing outward, finally reaching the two after a second. Rowan giggled, as her friend went from perky happy to sighing, slouched and almost depressed. She patted his back, as he got up, giving her a short wave before leaving, Rowan chuckling as she leaned back on the tree, waiting for a few seconds before getting up and sneaking away to her tree again.

It had been a good amount of time between each visit now, the problems between her and her sisters lessening a good deal and Barbontas there for the things that she couldn't normally deal with. But every so often, she would find herself scampering back here, the dreams coming back to her suddenly. And as if she fell from the tree again, or shot the heavy crossbow suddenly, she was out of breath. She doubled over suddenly, one arm around the tree and the other to her chest, her heart not feeling like it stopped now but rather speeding up, the 'Thump-Thump' beat going twice as fast, the pace hurting her ribs almost.

( _It'll hurt a lot Rowan, but you'll love it...love it….Come here...You deserve this, you know...I hope you enjoy this, Rowan…)_

Rowan coughed, the pain increasing before lessening, as she lowered her hand from her heart to a bit lower, to her ribs. Phantom pain flashed there in time with her heart. It was more than a bruise, it was piercing, sliding between her ribs like-

 _(You thought you were my sister?)_

-a blade, twisting and digging. Rowan could only give a silent scream, that resonating pain jumping place to place on her body, like needle points but much bigger.

Rowan fell to her knees, the simpletons clothes she was wearing getting dirty as tears pooled from clenched eyes. Her cries turned to silent sobs, as if a magician had cast a silencing spell on her.

 _(You like this, huh? You're sick, and perverse. You need cleansed.)_

Fire. The many resonating points were expanding, heating up, burning her. What was this terrible, horrible pain wracking her?

And then there was blood in her mouth, lots of it as she scrambled back, clenching herself as the evil visions swam past her eyes like so many minnows in a jar, circling over and over.

Grace and the knife she used to kill the advisor from so long ago, somehow back in her hands after throwing it into a wagon months ago, now finding it's mark all over Rowan's small body. Rina and the branding iron, the end red hot and spreading out like so many tentacles from a blazing red squid, wrapping around her and burning her, plunging into her soft skin at every angle, burning her from within and without. Her mother, scornfully using a thrice barbed flail to tear her back open and turn it into a fillet for the open, blood splashing out of her. Angela, who told such lovely stories and lessons, screeching tales of horror and pain in her ears and grating her skull to slivers of bone with voice slone. Richton, coping her up and using her in a stew. The advisors, especially the one her mother most talked to, pulling her apart piece by piece like she was only a pile of connected parts. Barbontas, his head in her lap and his body hanging from the ceiling and a blade in her hand.

Grace, Rina, Mother, Angela, Richton, Advisors, Barbontas, Grace, Rina, Mother, Angela, Richton, Advisors, Barbontas, GraceRinaMotherAngelaRichtonAdvidorsBarbontas.

All the horrible images swam just behind Rowan's clenched eyelids, as she scurried into her spot again. She couldn't stand the light now, or the heavenly breeze, or the sweet scent of the fruits. She needed to be curled up and hidden, buried in darkness and comforted by silence.

It only took a few seconds to get in her spot, the light of noon vanishing in the corner of the garden, the tree shadowing everything from above and behind, this spot only got second hand light, just the reflection of light off other things as she pulled the blanket here over herself, curling into a ball and snuggling between the roots,trying to ward off the memories of the dreams.

She had lost her journal so long ago. When Rowan was younger, she would jot down every night terror in the book. Filling its pages with childish fears, like a monster in the closet or under the bed or storms, and with 'grown fears'. The kind of fears you only get when you start realizing the world, even in the slightest. When you know that dragons and demons and slime and walking skeletons and flaming skulls and evil witches and ghost were real, but also understand that your loved ones could be trying to kill you, or that the ones who claim to protect you will behead you, or a random man could off her for no reason.

There was no famous scandals of murder in the Harkon lineage, as far as she knew. Peace meant that every prince and princess of the royal line would have land and people and would rule somewhere, be it here or with some person they were married to. Add in that this was the first time in about seven generations that more than two princesses were in line, there wasn't a good reason to start killing in the family. Ah, but that didn't mean it couldn't happen.

Rowan could remember at least a few times when they had a royal diner with the new king or queen of some other kingdom that had blood on the hands that now clenched power. It was so simple in theory, as well. Just like with the hero ambushes Angela told her about so long ago when the hero used brains instead of weapons. Just set a trap and wait. A poisonous snake in the middle of the night, poison, assassination, a trip down the stairs. All easy and almost all completely blameless and without evidence.

That was part of why these dreams haunted her the most, and why she wanted her journal back. It was so plausible and easy for any one of the scenes in her dreams to come true, and caused Rowan to burst into tears upon awakening at dawn's first light.

She could have written it down in her journal. Wrote every scene of terror through the book, doodle a bit, and as if by magic the dream memories, the impression of the dreams even, faded away like shadows on s new summer day.

But that precious book was lost, many months ago. She last remembered writing in it the morning of the war breakfast, because she had had a nightmare about….something. Something with Grace, she was sure, but past that it wasn't there. She didn't have a real bad night for a week before this dream started, with Grace and Rina and Angel and all of them. She had shuddered and quake for what felt like hours, before stumbling up and finding a candle, and had used it to light two unlit ones on her lonesome desk, and had groped for her journal under her bed, only to find it missing.

And now, many months later and a war going on, here she was, at tears while hiding behind a tree in the corner, cuddling herself between comforting roots as she tried to get a hold of herself.

It took a while for her to calm down, nearly gasping for air as the tears, which had finally leaked out, dried up, her muffled sobs and quakes lessening to a dullness in her, leaving the feeling of hollowness but also a soft, sweet light. Everyone needed to cry sometime, better to let it out in private instead of with someone from the dream nearby. She would barely be able to talk to Barbontas, and would only run from the others.

But she could only force herself up now, brushing the dirt off herself. She liked these simple clothes of greys and browns better than the frills and fancy clothes, no where near as soft but much more durable. With herself all nice and good again, she stepped out from behind her safety tree, heading back to the path.

She couldn't stay here crying all day, she had a big ass crossbow to master.


	10. Chapter 10

**A.N.: I'm sorry about any text errors, my dear readers. Or simply not making the story look as good as it can. I'm working on mobile, and I can't make it look good or do half the stuff I can at school with a desktop. I'll try and fix it as I go, but it's very spasmodic and I do apologize. Also, it has come to my attention that the Naga in most DnD campaigns are not half human half snake, only human heads on snake, but I am going with the more conventional idea of Naga from the campaign I was looking into.**

 **Ch 10: The Months That Tick By**

 _ **Frostfall**_

There is something about Frostfall that Rowan just absolutely loved, and it had nothing to do with the season or the late harvest that steadily went to work. It wasn't even the festivales people celebrated. No, it was the food change. Frostfall was when it started to get cold, and when it started getting cold in Rilia it got really cold. The same defenses that gave the kingdom it fabled look turned it into a bowl of winds that constantly spun round and round, turning even mild seasons of cold into frigid seasons of ice. No matter how bad it would be normally, it was ten time worse in Rilia.

The frigid cold always made people stock up on supplies, especially meats and fuel. The change caused people to start serving out meats more often, something hot to fill the guts of the cold. And Rowan loved meat. Well, all people loved meat, but Rowan loved it more so. She couldn't get enough of it, and Frostfall to First Seed was filled with so many types of meat.

Richton made such wonderful meals, mostly meat centered, at this time of the year. Sweet hams and fish and so much more. Served with fresh fruits and sauces aplenty and covered or dipped or any other way of dressing the food. Rown especially loved the basic meat that was most common in one of the nearby kingdoms, that was filled with plains and had herds of cattle. She loved the meat of that kingdom, and often requested it. There were so many ways Richton could make it, and she loved each one.

It was the 27th of Frostfall, and Rowan was relaxing. After word of the attack had finally reached the castle, her mother had been in a full fledged panic almost, not leaving her father's study and insisted all three princesses stay inside there as well. It took Richton careful words to push the fear away, not that Rowan didn't understand. It was the same problem she herself had. The knowledge that something probably won't happen but the crippling fear of understanding it could.

That was a week and a half ago, and not much new has happened. The fireplace in every room that sported one housed at least embers at all parts of the day now. The cold was setting in, and the stones of the castle were really cold. Rowan had on her warmest shoes and still did a strange tapping dancing routine to speed down the freezing hallways so her feet didn't touch the floor as much. Instead of basic clothes she wore thicker, fur clothes now. Many civilians would scoff at seeing a princess in furs, but by the gods was it warmer than the dresses usually offered. Rina and Grace did not think the warmth was worth the embarrassment, but Rowan was a bit giggly when she saw them shivering around a fireplace early this morning in their dresses.

Her nose twitch, and she nearly bent over as she sneezed, pulling her cloak closer. It was some old fur of one kind or another, musty and old. But, it was just warm enough for this weather and worn enough to be dead and gone when she went to a better one. It was a bit large though, hanging off her frame and almost touching the ground. She hurried down the hall, passing a servant as she escaped to the little room that had been whispered to her this morning. It was already getting dark out, the candles on the walls flickering as a draft froze her to the core.

"12, 13, 14, 15, turn left…" Here she did an exact left turn, seeing a narrow hall barely big enough for him to shimmy into. She frowned, closing the fur cloak before going sideways, slowly pushing in and trying not to touch the rough walls. She didn't want to tear up this old cloak, it was the only thing saving her from the chilly draft coming down the hall that split her like a knife.

It took a while, bit when she pulled into the 'room' she was honestly surprised. When 'Bon said it was an old room, she assumed he was talking like a broom closet that was unused or something the size of the crack she scooted in from, or something that they both can't be in at the same time, but this was none of that. It was maybe 8 feet by 9 ft, so it was small for certain, but no broom closet. And he was already here, so they could both be in here at the same time. There was even a fireplace, which Barbontas was feeding the last log in the room into. The room had no furniture, no true markings, nothing. It really was a blank room.

"Barbontas, how did you find this?" Rowan chuckled, moving over to him. The fire hadn't been going for long, the room was still chilly, as the dwarf kid grinned. He beckoned her over, and she obeyed, seeing the only real thing in the room was a lone fur rug, like the ones in her father's old study. He sat down on one end, and she sat on the other, almost touching him. The fire was nice, ebbing away the cold that had cut into her earlier.

"So, I was runnin' grub down to one of the princesses, and one of their rolls flew off the plate! Rolled right on in that crack we come in from. Had to shimmy into at least grab it to through to the hogs, Master would be furious if I wasted food. But I kicked it in further on accident, and it tooled the rest of the way in here." He claimed, opening his arms at the small room. Rowan had to admit, it may have been small but it had potential. She never knew of it, and she had lived here her whole life. And nothing was here, so none of the staff probably knew of it.

"Well, what are we to do with it my dear 'Bon?" Rowan could only tease, grinning at his kid like pout as he used the iron rod he brought in to poke the fire place, stirring up some more flames and bathing them in more heat.

"Anything and everything, Rowan. I'm going to certainly find some more logs, snitch some from the reserves to keep this place warm, maybe put a curtain on this side to hide the glow, but the rest is open." He said, not really having a plan but that, shrugging.

"Some chairs would be nice, and a table. Maybe some weapons, that'd be nice." Rowan mumbled, her friend raising an eye. Furniture was not his first line of thinking. "But beyond that, anything!"

Barbontas nodded, and the two slowly started to bounce ideas. Weapons, decorations, food, plants, furniture, and everything in-between. But soon all words were hushed, the crackling of the fire the only sounds beyond their soft breathing, taking in the heat. There just wasn't any more to talk about. They spent a lot of time with each other. All the staff found him too young, and the only others near his age were Rina and Grace, but they were both scoffing at even Rowan having a friend in the staff. Loneliness draws people together.

Rowan waited a good while, before silently leaning into his side, wrapping her arm around him. In the wake of silence, where words dampen truth, actions were best. Barbontas did the same, scooting closer and wrapping one arm around his friend, the two just staring into the fire. Neither wanted to know life without the other nearby, for they had come to need each other in the way the greatest of friends do.

And it was in this position they both awoke to, hours away, the fire having turned into dying embers. Neither could say anything, Rowan rushing out in a hurry, a blush burning across her cheeks. Barbontas was slow to follow, being much harder for the dwarf boy to get out before hurrying the other way. Thus was innocence.

 _ **Evening Star**_

Months tick by like seconds on a clock, and Rowan soon found herself enjoying her afternoons with Barbontas more and more, as the outdoors grew too cold to bear and the garden was all but locked to them. The library held some reprieve from the lull of the castle, but only for a bit. The cold winter had affected the war, which had also reached an unexpected lull, and had kept the forces of Naga and Lord Dagon. The Naga were surly uncomfortable in the normal warmer months, and the colder would be dreadful. But the snow also halted all movement beyond cleared walkways inside the castle, and nothing would come in or out of the castle grounds for many weeks unless there was an emergency. And thus, no new entertainment.

Rowan spent a lot of time in their new hide away, slowly fixing it up. They had a rug by the fire, one that was old but finally dusted and warmed. Some logs stacked up by the far wall with the poker, and they had found a small table and two chairs that they had dismantled and slid in piece by piece. That had been an interesting lie to Angela. It was home within home. Rowan, while liking the staff and guards, wasn't very sociable. Bon' wasn't either, having not talked to most of the staff at all.

Evening Star was known for being at least twice as cold as Frostfall, which was the reason both of them were staying in the hideaway room this afternoon. Barbontas had been left off of dinner detail, and Rowan had finished her practicing, leaving them both a free afternoon. Rowan silently peeked around the hall, before grabbing the blanket she had been sneaking through the halls closer to her, sliding into the slip space and escaping into the room. Barbontas was piling another two logs into the fire place, as she threw the blanket onto the table, grinning. Barbontas nodded, getting up and side stepping out of the room, as Rowan kneeled by the growing fire, getting warmed up. The castle had no heating in the hallways and corridors, and even draped in a cloak and with the blanket, it was still a bit cold.

They had both agreed on how to start bringing in supplies. They would take turns, sneaking in and out to get the agreed decor while the other warmed by the fire and kept it in check. Barbontas was grabbing the food now, then she would run and get the cushions and they would eat. She had faked being sick to Angela, and she had sent the message to the rest of the family. Barbontas would normally eat with the other servants, but no one would notice him not eating with them.

It only took a few minutes, before he was sliding a tray into the space of the side step, very carefully and very slowly. Rowan was ready, reaching in and grabbing the tray, sliding it in as quietly as she could. It produced a soft screeching that grated on her ears, but it held their supper. She slid it into the room, picking it up and nearly yelping as she sat it on the table, pulling back her hand and blowing on her fingers. It was unexpectedly hot on the handles. And there was her friend, slipping into the room with a loaf of fresh bread in wax, which he sat neck to the tray. The tray held two bowls of soup, and two plates of meat, and a candle in the middle. It was very basic compared to what she was normally served, but it still looked good.

"Ok, yer turn." Barbontas said, brushing himself off as she nodded, slipping past him and out of the room. Looking back, she cringed at how obvious the crack in the wall was now. The light from the fire made the crack looked like an open door without the door. Looking up, she saw something now illuminated by the giveaway. A metal rod, hanging just over the start of the crack. Rowan nodded, running off to her room, spotting a basic banner that wouldn't look too out of place over the crack. She made note of it, sliding into her room and grabbing the two cushions she had stashed under her bed last night. She didn't see the raised brow on Angela's face as she watched the little princess grab the poorly hidden stolen goods and run out. She could only sigh with a soft grin, seeing how her charge had definitely made a new friend.

Rowan ran along her way, setting the cushions beside the spotted banner and jumped up, grabbing hold and quickly climbing up. It was different from the tree, but somewhat similar. Soon she was by the top, looking down. It wasn't that long a drop, but she was happy to see the cushions down on the floor, just in case. She slowly started shifting her balance from the banner to the wall, straddling the cloth between her legs while her toes wedged between stone blocks. She kept hold of the hooks, so that the banner and the bar were able to be manipulated without dropping her like a rock. She lifted the bar and banner, grabbing the bar and just simply tilting it, letting the banner slid off and fall to the floor, where it piled on the cushions. She set the bar back in place, switching hands as her left was hurting. She grabbed the bar with her right, letting go of the hooks and sighing, pushing out with her feet and dropping as she let go.

She really hated the fall, but the banner and cushions were useful for a softer landing. She bundled them up, running along. After the excitement of removing the banner, she was left cold again. Soon arriving to the hide away, she dropped the banner by the entrance, throwing the cushion in as she motioned him to come out. They stayed quiet, knowing if anyone heard them they would quickly be found. He hooked his hands together, chest level. Sh grabbed the banner with one hand, his shoulder with the other, and forced herself up. Stepping from his hands to his shoulder, she stepped up again. He then lifted his hands above his head, giving her a third stepping post and the highest she could go. Her fingers hooked into the hooks, and she lifted herself again, toes wedging into the crack as she lifted the bar. Now was the tricky part, forcing the banner onto the bar bit by bit, Barbontas feeding it up slowly. It was slowly ready, and and she sat the bar in its place, grinning/ They were on the outside, but it would be easy to push it aside to enter their room. Now was the tricky part, as she shifted her feet to try and get her legs around the banner to slide down. But, she had forgotten that her feet were in the crack, not between bricks. And down she fell.

Barbontas was lucky to be under her, as they both tumbled down, her falling on him as they both groaned, the thud from the fall loud enough to confirm that it was a heavy fall. Rowan slowly sat up, rubbing her side as Bon' rubbed his head, and then they both began to giggle. She slid off of him, nearly gasping as her side sag from pain as he stumbled up. They looked at where the entrance to their hide away was, nodding. Just a banner. Rowan slid it aside, sliding in as he shuffled behind her slowly, her muttering to him to close it. He slowly did so, as she surveyed the room. It was home, basically. Home within home. No mother to tell her to act more like a royal, or her sisters and their disapproving looks. Rowan loved them all, but it was all too much. This was a safe place, away from their eyes. She moved to the chain, setting the cushion on it and sitting down, grinning as Barbontas got in, doing the same without a word. With practiced ease, a small flame on a twig was used to light the candle, casting a nice glow over their food and themselves.

"Dinner is served." He claimed, finally speaking, and Rowan tried to hold it in, but soon she was giggling, and he was following. Soon they were both just laughing, not caring about the noise as they reflected on the night. It all seemed so funny now. All the falling, the sneaking around, the banner, the whole night was a resounding fail and success all at once. They slowly calmed, eating. The bread was hot, and the sou was closer to broth, but the meat was still perfect and the broth still delicious with a few vegetables in it, giving them something to dunk the bread in. All they were missing were drinks, but neither of them would ever dare steal a bottle of wine, and the other stuff was too protected to attempt right now. But it was still a good night.

And all throughout it, Rowan could only hope that every night could be this simple yet perfect. Soon, the food was consumed and they laid by the fire, just making small talk, until the candle burned out. This was their agreed leaving point. After the first night last month, where they had fallen asleep, they found the repercussions in the morning. When Angela went to wake Rowan up, and found her missing, there had been a small panic until Rowan had shown up to breakfast, getting an earful of how worried they were. Barbontas had also gotten a stern talking to from Richton, since he had arrived late for his working shift. The lessons for Rowan that afternoon were purposely long, boring, and bothersome about punctuation while Barbontas was forced to take a double labor shift and take out the chamber pots of the guards and servants. It was a nice night, but not worth the punishment.

They slowly got off the blanket they were laying on, slipping out one at a time. Barbontas used the last of his broth to throw on the fire and moved the blanket away. Letting the fire die. Out in the hall, instead of leaving, Rowan waited, keeping the banner open for him. It took him a minute, but he was soon slipping out as well. She couldn't help it, as she threw her arms around the dwarf boy, keeping herself close for a second before pulling back. He was blushing lightly at the sudden display of affection, as she grinned, leaving without a word. They went different directions, him to the left to the servants quarters and her to the right, to her room.

Neither would feel the cold, the warmth in their chests enough to ward it off.

 _ **The Shift**_

Rowan sighed, bundled up as she and the rest of the castle slowly went outside, her staying near Rina and Grace as her mother talked to the man in the strange cloak. Today was simply known as the Shift. The day between Evening Star and Morning Star, which would be the official new year. Today was a day of silence, until the hour before midnight. Then the country would be awake, praying and begging for a good next year. There would be offerings, prayers, spells to decypher the divine, and such until midnight, where people would celebrate the new year. The staff were also hanging around the courtyard and the gardens, drinking and enjoying the castle's fine assortment. Loriana has been and probably would be the only queen to ever share drink with commoners casually, even if they were staff.

Rina was tapping on her rapier, smiling happily. It wasn't threatening to Rowan anymore, but rather comforting. Her big sister was so good with her sword, just as strong as she was flexible. Chop a man's arm off or slide the blade into a chink in his armor, both were equal opportunities, and she would protect her. The nightmares had begun to truly fade. With the onset of the cold, and her constant company in Barbontas, they seemed to have subsided. So now she wasn't paranoid or frightened by her sister's enjoyment of the steel, but rather welcomed it.

The sound of a lute started up somewhere, followed by a harp. It wasn't that good, but it did add to the general happy mood of the night, as her mother and the cloaked man went their separate ways, her mother to Richton and the man pass them. Rina and Grace gave no looks to the person, just a black cloaked figure. But Rowan was shorter, and ducked slightly forward to catch a quick look at his face.

Young, pale, not average but not unique, a soft glimmer in front of his face. He turned and offered a smile, and she offered one back as he went on his way. The man went to the gate, and turned to the crowd. Now was the wait. There was two people keeping track of the stars and moon, waiting for the right time. It soon was upon them, as she felt a familiar warmth move to her side as her sisters moved forward. Rowan only had to look a bit over to tell it was Barbontas. He didn't say anything, and neither did she. Then there was fire, lighting up the sky in a glorious orange hue in the form of a reptile, a dragon, swinging and curling through the air. The hour was here and gone, the new year had started. Rowan didn't know what she was doing, and she supposed neither did her friend, but silently in the spasmodic flashes of light and darkness, they joined hands. And so began the new year

 _ **Morning Star**_

The first day of the first month of the new year, no one alive would know how a creature, a demon of the sea and dreams awoke truly, as it started its final beast, a horrible being that might shatter minds should eyes lay upon it, shifted to the surface. It broke into the air, long green tnetacles sliding forward to the midnight black beach. They dug in the dark sand. Portals slowly spun into existence in front of it, one for each tentacle, and they all showed the same thing. A simple castle, with a wizard at the gate spewing fire. Naga rushed forward, and the invasion would finally come to an end, with Lord Dagon as the victor.


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: Thank you, readers, for enjoying this story and giving it just a bit of your time. Honestly, besides a few spots this was meant to be just a rough draft of the final thing. But, looking on it, I don't think I could make it better without a whole rewrite. Besides some grammar and spelling mistakes, what is published so far is its final form. Also, I'm going to be writing longer chapters. I know it took longer than usual for last chapter, but it was almost twice as long, so that chapter is my new benchmark. Thanks once again.**

 **Ch 11: Forte**

Rowan didn't know how it started, but it was loud. She first thought something was up when the magician's show suddenly ended, turning around to look at the gate. There was a shout, and what portion of the guard that were nearby that were not drunk started to form a line. A defensive line. Shouts and yells as Rowan was forcefully pulled back by someone. Angela, pulling her along. Her sisters and mother were rushing forward, and Rowan followed, Barbontas keeping a hold on her other hand. The servants were screaming, more guards rushing forward. A throng of people trying to escape from the coming battle or rushing to it.

It was understandable why Rowan lost her grip, Barbontas was forced out of view. He yelled something, and she could only scream his name. Both voices were drowned out in the screams and cries and clashes of steel. Then the hallways diverged, Rowan forced one way, Barbontas going somewhere. He was pulled out of her sight. And as much as she cried out to be let go and to get him, her voice was either unheard or not acknowledge. Probably both.

It was chaos outside, certainly. The Naga didn't come first, though. First it was a wave of heat. Not fire, heat. Like the roar of some demon from the pits of hell, it rushed over the courtyard, where so many soldiers had paced and trained, where all three princesses had played and where Barbontas and Rowan had played more recently. The roar ripped away the cold, feeling more like the heat of summer as snow and ice turned to liquid instantly. This did not kill anyone, but the sudden change could only be described as disorientating. And when a good half of the soldiers present were drunk, disorientating was death. They all fell or slid or skidded around like so many bad skaters, as Naga rushed forward. The sudden warmth made the fighting possibly for them, and the water gave them speed. Those who had fallen were either dragged back or left behind, many guards moving inward as people surging forward tried to stop and people behind them surging forward. Those who slipped past the guards soon met the reaper in the form of steel. Those who were left behind met the same fate.

When faced with large numbers compared to your own meager forces, it is best to garrison a point where your enemy cannot attack well, to divide him and conquer bit by bit. The guards pushed people back as much as they could, some shoved out to meet their fate, some trampled. The Naga only advanced, spears leveled as they edged closer. For just as it was best to garrison, if you are not ready your enemy will not give you time to do so.

Many guards died in this fashion, pushed out the door by the mob of people into the uncaring monsters at their door. Then the mob soon realized how close the enemy was. The tides turned, but it was too late. The doors that were trying to shut were stopped, Naga rushing in. A man lead them, though. In a simple red cloak, he stood shorter than the staves the invaders carried. But a shout from this man did something that had been wanted all winter. A burst of heat, rushing down the main hall. And like that, Naga rushed forward, able to fight again.

The man silently removed his hood, revealing long black hair tied in the back of his head with a simple band, and his grin was feral, two long incisors on both jaws. His skin was pale as the moon, his eyes red as blood. He was the stereotypical vampire, and anyone who got a good look at him would agree.

"We need the girl's alive, the mother can die. All others are free game." The man spoke clearly, despite the chaos. The guards, what few remained here, we're being pushed back easily. No time to defend. The nearest Naga nodded. This half man half snake creature was taller than his breather by a foot or so, and much heavier. "The ritual does not need them unharmed, just mostly intact." He added, the chief grinning now. A roar or a chant, or a mix of both, escaped the naga, and his soldiers followed in, forcing onward.

Rowan was crying more, unable to scream but she wasn't trying anymore. Barbontas was nowhere near, a good portion of the guards had followed the females to the Queen's room. It was the closest but also the easiest to defend. Only one entrance. All three princesses were forced in, Rina and Grace looking worse for wear but ok, no tears stained their faces. Angela passed Rowan over to the queen, as the door was slammed shut, and the heavy bed pushed against it. Rina and Grace, both not doing anything. Shocked. Rowan silently rubbed her wrists, the one turning red, marking her once perfect porcelain skin. A brief burst of anger towards her caretaker was washed away as talk of survival was discussed. Rowan didn't need to hear this, curling up in a corner as tears threatened to spill forth. Her only friend was out there, she had let go in the chaos. She hoped he was safe, but it was all getting to the child.

Rina and Grace silently talked. Neither had their weapon of choice, and now were forced into this cramped room with no hope of escape. It didn't take a general to figure out that barring a door only cut off that exit. There was no other exit. Many stories spoke of secret passages into and out of royal bedrooms, bit none existed here. There was no windows, no other exit, no hidden passages, nothing. They were trapped.

It wasn't long before the door was rattling. Either someone begging to get in for elp and safety or someone trying to kill them. It soon stopped, but then started up again. Harsher, louder, before metal biting wood was echoing the chamber. They had been found, the inevitable had happened. And so soon, as well. Some cynical part of Rowan thought that it was too late to cry, but the rest of Rowan burst out fresh tears. At best, she would be a slave or a plaything to someone with money, at worst she would die horribly. Neither were desirable outcomes as salty tears slid down her pale face, twin lines of red running from her eyes down to her lips. The taste of salt teased her, and she quieted down as the first ting of metal broke past the wood into the room. More soon followed. Some ax blades, most sword or spear points. They were simply chopping their way in. The guards made two lines. Spearmen in the front, making a line around the door as the rest made a second line, shields up to protect the royalty they had sworn themselves to.

Rowan closed her eyes, as someone gently grabbed her. She didn't need to open her eyes, knowing by scent alone. The scent of dust mixed with lavender and oranges, with a hint of blood. Angela. So much like her mother yet so much older. Grandmother, almost. Rowan silently slipped her arms the old woman, who had never had children of her own. Angela held her close, separated from the other three females by a wall of guards. Before they could rush over, the invaders broke through, the bed only slowing the. Spears spilled blood, throats slashed and armor dented on both sides, soft tings of metal, so silent compared to the noise of earlier. The guards held their own to the Naga spearmen, who had to break through more of the door and slither over the bed to get to the men. Several died quickly, and more fell.

Rowan's tears slowly stopped, but not because of the defense holding up, but because the inevitable was closer than ever. The first guard died, his blood pooling under him, a spear in his throat. Blood didn't spray out, like in the stories, but gently gushed out in bursts as his heart kept going, not understanding it should stop yet. The pulsating stream spread his life force outward easily, and Rowan couldn't help but shudder as it spread to her. She couldn't move, and Angela was not moving, praying in some foreign language. The blood slipped under her bare legs, and she shuddered at the sticky mild warmth it was, quickly cooling over the cold floor. It slipped into her shoes, squishing under her sole and between her toes. She shuddered, not liking it. Not at all.

More guards fell, as more Naga slid in, corpses of their brethren pushed or pulled away, making room. As the invaders slid in, the remaining guards took up spears, shields up as they made the final line of defense. It didn't last long, as many soon fell. There was just no stopping the Naga, no defense great enough to give them pause. Rowan slipped into sweet darkness, if only for a bit. She would never know how quickly the guards were slaughtered, or how Grace was grabbed from Rina. She screamed as she was pulled out of the room, soon followed by Rina and Lorianna. The last guard did not surrender, and received a sword in his gut for his refusal. He would die alone, as Angela was forced up by the Naga, and Rowan jostled awake with a scream.

"Remember the stories." Was whispered hotly in her ear, as a hand went over her mouth. Scaly hand, not skin. Naga. Rowan knew not to bite, she had no wish to die and biting was probably a good way to die. "The stories, Rowan." Was whispered again, as they were pulled along. Rina's backside was ahead of them, as they were forced along. Naga was at all their sides, guiding them out of the castle. Blood started dripping on Rowan's head, turning her once precious gold hair scarlet, then she looked up. Angela was bleeding,a cut on her forehead. She didn't look good. The air was warm, as they were brought to the gardens. Fires were being lit, and the trees were burning. Rowan couldn't summon any more tears, the heat welcoming to the cold of winter but the knowledge that this was the end left a stubborn icicle in her chest.

The man was there, guiding the clearing of the middle of the gardens. Rowan could only look at him from the sides of her eyes, a mass of orange and white, and red after a second. He looked strange, and she couldn't help but shudder at how he looked. It was so bizzare to see such bright colors among the Naga, who were mostly uniform dark and light green. Angela had let go, shifting slowly. She crooned upward, seeing better than Rowan did, and taller to boot. Some of the naga were going around the man in a circle, buckets of red paint being emptied carefully in some design. Rowan couldn't smell the flowers anymore. They had been so nice all summer and even all the mild fall months. Now she could only smell smoke and blood.

 _Smoke and blood_

Then it hit her like a ton of bricks that they would not bring buckets of paint onto a battlefield. They had collected blood. The fires slowly spread, as Rowan could only choke back the tears. They hadn't just slaughtered her people, her friends who had taken care of her all these years, they hadn't just killed them like normal soldiers. They had butchered them, using them as nothing more than sources of blood for this pointless spilling. But was it pointless.

There was a circle, and strange symbols were being drawn by the man in the middle, and a thought struck her, making her nearly spin. A ritual. Blood was used for a lot of things, but such a large quantity was only ever used as markers or in a ritual. That explained the fires, and she could only remember the story that Angela told her, of how a cult of some demon would sacrifice their greatest enemies in a ritual that would energize their demon god. She was in a story now, herself. But there would be no hero to rescue the princesses this time.

"Ok, I need the daughters over here, prepare them for the final spilling." The man said, as he stocked closer. The bright colors sharpened and became definite as he checked over the girls one by one. Loriana was silent and staring ahead, aiming to die in peace. Rina was growling, her face red as she bared her teeth at the man, rage clouding her vision. If it wasn't for the Naga holding her back, Rina would surely try to rip the man apart with her nails alone. Grace was staring ahead, almost dead like. Angela didn't say anything, studying the circle.

It wasn't until the man came to Rowan when his expression changed. Before he had inspected the females without a care, a butcher inspecting hunks of meat. Even when looking at the older two, he had barely acknowledged the queen and hardly even laid eyes on Angela. He saw them as just more sources of blood, and as a way to keep the rest of them in line. But when he saw Rowan, he showed real emotion. Confusion. He turned to the biggest invader, and Rowan had to crane her neck to see the face of this man. She shivered at his cold appearance.

"I asked for only the daughters of Gohan, his wife and the old croon. Who is this?" The vampire asked, looking back at Rowan. Rowan couldn't stop the burst of anger at the man, but she also didn't see her mother look away silently. But Grace and Rina did. Their suspicions of so long ago were true.

"I am a daughter of Gohan, he was my father." Rowan spoke harshly, her breath ragged, her throat sore from the smoke, her eyes burning from it as well. Tears threatened to spill forth, it was all becoming too much for her. It was building in her. She should run, while she had the chance. Her hands weren't bound, nor were her legs. The only thing stopping her was the presence of the Naga right behind her.

"No, Gohan had two daughters before his death 12 years ago. We made sure of that when we hunted him like he hunted our kind so long ago. You are not one of them." He said, though the grin on his face brought a shiver to Rowan's spine, a chill of darkness as tears threatened to spill from her eyes, two pieces connecting. Two pieces she had never thought of together, never needed to bring together. Her father died 12, almost 13 years ago. She was going to turn 10 soon. The numbers didn't match. She wasn't amazing at numbers like her mother's advisors were, but she understood how that couldn't be possible. And like that, her world crumbled.

Like all kids are likely to do, when faced with something they don't want to exist, something that scares them and destroys them and so much more, they run. And so did Rowan. Sudden and unexpected, she charged past the man, tears falling behind her as she shot past the burning trees, none of the naga expecting her to run or for her to be so fast. A bolt thudded into a tree near her, but none got anywhere closer. The man started following her, a grin on his face.

Rowan, like all kids, ran to where they feel safe in times like these. So she went to her tree, the large rowan tree that pierced through the haze of life like a blade in flesh. She fell against it, turning around. The man was there, grinning. She fell back as much as she could, as he stalked near. She was defenseless, and he was baring his fangs. Then she felt it, as he seemingly vanished. A burst of light in the darkness, a flash of crimson against white. His fangs in her throat.

She couldn't scream, as he shortly pulled away. He knew the holes weren't deep, nor life threatening. But her blood, this unassuming girl's blood, this girl who was so strangely colored yet so simply acting like any other child, had such excellent blood. So vibrant and warm and alive.

"Girl, do you want to live?" He asked easily, and Rowan, even past the pain and the smoke that filled her head and the voices screaming in her skull, she nodded. Once, twice, no more. Too much, light headed now. "Then you shall call me Master you will obey me, or you will die like the rest of them." he hissed. He leaned back up, grabbing the girl by her shirt and pulling her up, not gently. She had wonderful blood, yes, but she had so little of it. Why enjoy a glass of wine now when in a few years the bottle as a whole will be yours?

He dragged her back to the main area, and sat her by a smoldering tree. She had to hold back the cries of pain, too much heat was coming off it. Her back felt like fire, her flesh shuddering and twitching and feeling like it was melting. She could barely open her eyes, as Balron stepped over the dried ritual circle, the blood dried. Her family was there, watching her in desperation. Her mother was crying, but quietly. Her sister Rina was screaming threats of death and hauntings, but she had been restrained, and a blink after she saw they all were. Her little stunt must had encouraged them to do so. And Rowan couldn't even force herself to say sorry. Her eyes closed, and it took a while before they were open again. Everything was red. And the heat was so much worse.

There was a force, a face of darkness in fire, the blood was growing. Her sisters were silent, so was her mother. Angela was chanting, an old prayer of peace and sleep, as Balron went to them one by one, a twisted dagger in his hands. As long as Rowan's arm, a gem in the middle of the blade the color of the sea, a nasty blue green. Silvery blade, with a black handle. Then, that lovely blade found her mother's neck. As much as she would deny it, Rowan couldn't help but find the way blood rolled of the blade was beautiful. Her mother slumped over at the screams of the other three, blood pooling around her slowly.

One by one they fell, the vampire not partaking in the blood. After her mother was Angela, who went with a cry to some god called Obad-Hai to take her before she was silenced. The smoke filled Rowans head, a daze that clouded her feelings, made her numb and cold as she shivered and squirmed. Then Rina was screaming a curse to the high heavens, a call of vengeance and hatred. Rowan committed ever word to memory, though cynically doubt they would happen. Grace shed some tears and begged for her life. It didn't stop Balron, and she kept whispering pleas of life as her life spilled out around her. And like that, her family was dead. Rowan tried to care at the second, tried to force the sobs that echoed and reverberated in her chest that wanted released. The Naga cheered, no one was crying. Someone had to cry, her family was dead. Could the sky not spare even a tear for the lives lost? For the massacre that went on under it's watchful gaze?

All dead. All dead. All dead. It floated around her dazed head endless times as she fell asleep again. Asleep to the sounds of chanting and cries of blood and death. Rowan would not awaken for a long time, and when she awoke it would be to the prayer that it was all a dream. Just a dream and nothing more. It was another terrible nightmare that would be jotted in the journal she never found and be forgotten as she went back to playing with Barbontas and taking her mother's lessons and listening to Angela's stories and enjoying Richton's cooking and the smell of the perfect garden and the snow and everything. But reality is cruel, and these things would surely be no more.

Instead of in her comfy bed, or Angela or her mom pulling her from her tree or Barbontas getting her up in their secret room, she woke to a heavy handed slap. It stung and brought fresh tears to her eyes, before she was roughly pulled to her feet by her hair. She didn't cry out, though tears did finally spill. Balron was grinning at her, motioning her inside. Everything was gone. The garden was gone, mostly. The rowan tree in the back stook out like a knife now, a few trees here and there. It was on a bed of dirt and blood and under a blanket of ashes instead of cotton. She felt dead herself, almost as dead as her family. A twitch of a grin slid across her face, sad and twitching. She was smeared in ashes, like dust across her body. Blood caked her legs and midsection, caked and dried and itchy. She didn't hesitate to put it under her nails and relieve herself of the itch herself, as she was lead back into her home by the man.

She only followed, noting how the staff was gone now, mostly. There was a tiny handful left, Richton, somehow alive considering it all, was nursing a heavy wound across his midsection, held together by bandages. The rest were in various stages of injured or healing. The invaders, the conquerors, didn't bat an eye or offer help. They were roaches under tail that would live or die by their own means. Rowan kept an eye out, wanting to run to each and every one of them, the survivors, to talk to them and comfort them and assure them all would be well and they would have vengeance and prevent them from ever doing this again. But she couldn't. She was dead mentally, even with sleep. Besides, as much as she loved them all, there was someone that was missing who she cared about more, one that was possibly still alive.

"Girl, where is your room?" Balron demanded, tugging on her hair again. Rowan pointed without a cry, as more tears slid down her face, the red lines thickening under her eyes and stinging down her cheeks. Once upon a time, Angela would be here to listen to her woes and wipe away her tears and offer words to calm her. But no more. Each step was painful, memories dragging her down like weights, her heart beating softly as it echoed with pain. She could barely move herself, and this apparently seemed to both satisfy and annoy the new master of the castle. She was drug to her room, and thrown onto her bed. She didn't resist, her energy sapping away under the comfortable bed. The ashes and blood was certainly staining it, and she remembered how things like this were taken care of her by staff she thanked and talked to, people who didn't mean the world to her but certainly didn't deserve this fate.

"Tomorrow, we will see what fight you still have left. Tonight, you will stay here." Balron said, not offering the princess any help as he turned and stalked out, the door closing. Rowan didn't speak, nor make a sound. Tears dried up, and she could only weakly pull a cover over her body, asleep to nightmares of what she could have done or what she should have said while she had time. She should had attacked the man, not run. She didn't have a weapon, but eyes didn't need to be scooped out with knives, fingers would be fine. Or steal a knife or a sword off a Naga and run him through. Disregarding the fact she couldn't have, she knew she should have.

She should have told Angela how much she appreciated her, hugged her a few more times. Asked for more stories and to ask where she heard them all from. She should have done so much with her caretaker, but she had passed on, to the god of her choosing.

Rowan should have ran to her mother more, to enjoy her comforting embrace and her sweet, loving words and promises of seeing something or other in another country, or to teach her more and be smart like Grace or to be as fierce as Rina. Rowan wouldn't get the chance anymore, her mother's room now belong to this new man.

Rowan should have loved her sisters more, and hugged them and held them close and cherished each and every moment with them, watched Rina fight without holding back tears and Grace read without shuddering at possibilities that certainly would never come now. Nightmares that kept her from each and every one of those now gone wouldn't plauge her anymore, the subjects of each were now dead, and probably buried or burned or simply missing. They wouldn't get the proper funeral rites or prayers or pyres or anything. They had been taken from her, as swiftly and easily as a winter breeze extinguishes a candle.

Rowan was no one now, her life had been a lie and now she was alone and exhausted and dead inside, awaiting what new horrors would become of her now.


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: I know I kinda rushed the ending of last chapter, but I'm actually ok with it. I mean, I guess I could have spaced the deaths out a bit more, or done them a bit better, but overall I thought it was good, considering it was my fourth try at the same scene. Also, I'm really sorry about the insane time it took making this chapter. I normally only do about 2k-4k words, but to make up for it this chapter is 12k, almost 13k words long. So it took about 6 times as long to make a chapter 6 times longer than normal. Chapters after this will not be this long, but they will certainly be longer than 4k. Plus, being a senior going to college means life kills my writing time, so please forgive if it is a bit before ch13 comes out. Also, points to whoever points out the Ghost B.C. reference(s) in this chapter. Thanks for taking the time to read and review if you do, and enjoy!**

Ch 12: Dead

Rowan awoke in cries of fear and pain, throwing herself out of her bed in a jumble of sheets, the dried blood and ash coating her skin a new array of colors. She nearly screamed again as she crawled backwards out of the covers, back hitting the wall at the sights of blood and ash, coloring her skin red and black and grey and evil in purpose. She nearly cried for Angela as the thoughts broke through her mind, the memories of last night digging between her eyes as she cried again, unable to stop it. Grace would have done it silently but intently for it meant she would push herself a thousand times more to get over it, and Rina would have swore vengeance and blood and so many other things. She did, in fact, the memory of her cries to the high heavens being of holy punishment and not divine protection. Angela had done the exact opposite, asking the god she had called upon for protection and safety in the afterlife, tears of joy at what was instead of tears at what is. Her mother would cry silently, cherishing memory but accepting reality.

Rowan would do none of these things, crying about the past but loudly, little shakes and shudders and spikes of pain wrecking her small body as she couldn't stop herself. Yesterday, the pain had been too much, there had been too much of everything. Too much noise, too much death, too much blood. Now there was nothing, a void in place of the everything of the last day. She had to remind herself it had been night, and today was the first of the new year.

It felt wrong, empty, too cold, too much silence. She had to fill it, and her cries weren't working. Her tears did not wash away anything, only made the stinging in her cheeks return and the pain in her chest grow and the little knives of regret and sorrow and pain rushing through her go faster. It didn't fill the void. It only made it worse.

Her tears eventually dried up, as she leaned back, her mind numb but active, sorting through everything. She was alone, at the mercy of some man named Balron, who had killed her family and was a servant of Lord Dagon probably, who had orchestrated this whole thing. She was alone with no staff, no help, nothing. She had no money to her name, no kingdom by which to rule, no one who could resist the reality that was her own. She had her blood and ash and fire smelling self and possibly the clothes in her closet and whatever she had left as her own possibly. It was a long drop from where she had been, where it felt like the world would one day belong to her possibly. From everything to nothing, from the pinnacle to the pit. It was a long way down, as they say.

She slowly got up, feeling weak. Sleep at first didn't seem so bad. She took one weak step before she was dropped to her knees, dream memories burst forward again, regrets and possibility, the cold pulling her mind from fire and into the knowledge it was too cold to sleep as she brushed memories off again. She didn't want to remember, didn't want to think. She wanted to be dead, but knew they couldn't have died for nothing. They wouldn't have died for nothing. If nothing else, she would take Balron out with her. She would be vengeance, and take him just as he took her family, and bring him to the deepest level of hell with her. Death didn't seem so bad if she brought him with her. It even seemed appropriate, in a twisted way.

She slowly got to her feet, stumbling over to the fireplace, taking several trips and scratches along the way to the cold place. Only ashes and the burnt husk of a single log remained. She had been hoping it hadn't been out for long. Her next stop was the door, which she tried to push open like every other day of her life, like when Grace and Rina and mother and Angela were alive. But they weren't, and the door wouldn't budge. The door wouldn't budge…

A stab of fear slid into her chest, as she tried again, the door remaining firmly shut. She used both hands, and then her whole body. The door stood as strong as it ever had, but stubbornly shut. She tried once more, with a running start. The door jumped a bit, but not anymore than any other time. There was a burst of pain in her shoulder, as she held back the gasp of pain that nearly burst past her lips. She shuddered and slowly turned around, heading back to her bed, deciding that it wasn't a good idea to jostle her shoulder if she could. It still hurt, and not just the echoes of pain but current pain, like someone was digging a knife into it from behind.

She gently laid in bed, on her left side so her right shoulder would be up in the air and not pressing on the mattress. She curled up, not grabbing sheets or blankets, only using a pillow as she shivered and held back tears of pain, the shivering making her shoulder worse and the cold wasn't numbing it but rather making her shiver worse, a cycle of pain like the echoes in her heart.

She waited for what felt like eternity, the window of her room showing that the sun was slowly done rising, and she shivered as she slowly froze to what felt like death. She started to grow numb, the pinpricks that ran along her small form growing more numerous and deeper until that's all there was, creeping deeper and deeper. She feared her soul would freeze before she was released. If this was her captors plan, to let her freeze to death, she would have rather ran herself on that blade rather than run away. Better to die with her sisters than wait for one of the gods of death, whichever one found her most appealing, to come and take her away. She wondered which one took them away, her family. She hoped it was one of the nice ones who brought them to the gods to be loved and beheld.

It was only when she felt herself stop shivering at the cold did someone open the door, a maid that had once been Rina's. She was average looking, a bit thicker than normal if anything had to be mentioned. She looked around, before opening the door more and motioning Rowan along. Rowan struggled up, careful as she can to not move her bad shoulder as she obediently followed the woman out. No words were spoken, Rowan holding one arm across her chest, shuddering. It was understood, to be silent. Everyone lost someone in the attack, and what impact could words have that silence couldn't?

The hallways were only slightly better than her room. The stairs were evil, each step sending a near silent gasp past her lips as her shoulder shifted. She never really appreciated how big her home had been until now, where each step brought a new pain to be experienced in turn.

She was lead, slowly, to the servants wash area. A large set of fires was heating water, buckets on the side for gathering hot water, and small tubs. She looked up at the servant, but a shake of her head told her that she would not bath her, and she quickly looked around. She cleared her throat, looking down at the princess.

"Lord Balron has requested your presence in the dining room tonight, and requests that you be cleaned. He also has demanded that you work in the staff." She said easily, the respectful tone she once held slipping a bit, for it was no longer Rowan she obeyed, but a new man who had spared her life. Understandable, really. Who was Rowan now but a little girl, taken in for an unknown reason?

Rowan nodded once, as the woman turned and walked off quickly. Rowan slipped off her dress, or what remained of it, and threw it into a pile with the rest. She noticed the blood and ash stains were really common amongst the survivor's clothes, and suspected they would all be burned away. Blood was already complicated to get out, and ash probably made it worse.

The washroom of the servants was pretty common, at least to her. A mostly empty hall with doors at both ends. The other door at the end lead to the quarters of the servants, and she had to think of why she wasn't living with them now. Well, maybe it was too soon to think that. The rest of the hall was filled with large flat buckets lining the wall and large cauldrons of boiling water with a small fire underneath. The stones were almost burning under her feet, compared to the rest of the journey here. There were a dozen or so people in here, all nude like she was now, all washing quickly, turning greys and reds back to normal skin tones.

She meandered over to the cauldrons, finding a small bucket beside one that was mostly full. She used her right arm to cover herself as best as possible as she drew herself some water with her left, barely able to carry the bucket. While she slowly took her water to the nearest large bucket. She noticed so many people watching her from the corner of their eyes. They used to work for her and her family, and now they had not been protected like she promised, like her family had promised.

She drug the bucket up slowly, and into the bin she went, carefully bringing the bucket up to her chest. She couldn't raise it higher, as that would require both arms and her right was currently out of commision. She brought it up to about her chest, and carefully used her right hand to tilt the bucket slowly, letting the cooling water rush over her thin form, taking with it as much blood and ash that still caked her skin as it could. She sighed at the blissful warmth, taking in how the pins and needles reversed their movements, and it was painful but it was worth it. She emptied the bucket bit by bit, getting all her sides that she could and using her hands to pick at the pieces of blood and streaks of ash that just wouldn't come off. The dried blood reminded her of scabs, flicking off her bit by bit and thankfully revealing skin, not unprotected flesh.

She soon stepped out of the basin, noting how her feet were black and red and dirty from the water. She carefully used the last inches of water in her bucket on her feet, leaving one foot on the edge and carefully pouring with her right, holding back cries. She finished getting them clean, before slowly returning to the cauldron, setting the bucket down. She bent back up, noticing one of the other servants coming to her. It was probably one of Grace's handmaid's, or her mother's.

"Girl, why did you not clean your hair? You look like a mess." She said easily with a huff, towering over the kid. Rowan had to look up at her, craning her neck to see her face. She had thick brown hair that reached down to her chest, and she was thin like herself. Her voice held none of the previous respect it once would have, but that wasn't a concern at the second.

"I can't move the bucket that high." Rowan said truthfully, cowering under that gaze. The woman didn't budge, nor back down to her near mortification. After years of being helped, it was a bit of a shock to see such blatant disrespect. It was one thing not to say something respectfully, that wasn't Rowan's thing either, but to openly look down on a princess, even Rowan, was new to the girl.

"That is a lie, you are young and healthy. Do so, now." The woman said, handing Rowan a full bucket. Rowan grabbed it with one hand, her left, raising it to her chest, as that was about as far as she could with one arm, and it was a strain. "Both arms, girl." The woman said, looking around. Rowan did note the small tinge of fear in her voice, and could only think on how bad Balron must be to already strike fear in people who displeased him. Rowan slowly grabbed the handle with her right hand, forcing it up a few more inches as she strained not to whimper at the burst of pain. It was almost eye level, but was jostling heavily, and she had to not cry out heavily.

"Higher, over your head." The woman demanded, and Rowan tried. She really did. She got it up to eye level and an inch above before she let out a soft cry of pain, dropping it with her right as it dropped dead at her side, the bucket swinging away with her left hand, down and splashing water over her legs. She couldn't look up, only looking at her shoulder which throbbed and echoed in pain.

"Girl, what is wrong with you?" The woman asked, and Rowan finally found her voice again, realising the room was silent now, all eyes turned on the princess who failed at something as simple as raising a bucket of water.

"My shoulder hurts really bad, I can't move it much." She said, not looking up at the woman. She felt herself curl slightly to try and avoid her gaze, not liking it much at all.

"Do you need someone to look at it?" She asked, and at Rowans small nod, she sighed, nodding as she pulled Rowan over to a stack of clean clothes, throwing something much too large over her and sliding into something herself before sliding out of the room, guiding the wounded child to the medic guard who had lived. They went out of the other door, and Rowan bowed her head at the looks she received as they passed the others, having picked the door closest to the entrance.

The man was average looking, blond hair cut close to his head, a soldier's body, as he looked over her shoulder, tapping and watching as Rowan gasped and whimper. He nodded once at the other woman, who held Rowan close. Rowan tried not to struggle too much, but it hurt like hell.

"Ok, hold her still." He said, and raised up Rowans arm much to her protests. The woman kept Rowan as still as she could while Rowan struggled, crying out in pain. The soldier gave no heed, straightening the arm straight out before pushing in suddenly, a loud pop forming in her body as something slid back into place. Rowan couldn't help the tears of pain, though it did start to lesson bit by bit, til it was just a dull ache. She pulled back her arm finally, noting that while it still was painful to move, it wasn't as bad as before.

"There, don't strain it too much, if you can get some salve use it sparingly, and bandage it if you want. It should be fine eventually." The soldier said. This was how he would address a soldier, one who understand what happened and why, but that was all he knew. Rowan nodded once, understanding as she was lead away, back to her room. Inside was the first woman this morning, one of Rina's, who was stroking up a fire.

"Ok, you're somewhat clean. Come over here." She commanded, not sounding all that kind. Word travels fast amongst the staff. Rowan walked over as quickly as she dared, enjoying the warmth of the fire as she saw a small pot of water with some very strange plants boiling in it. Rowan was sat down, and her dress removed as the servant used a pad and some large tongs to remove the small pot, setting it on the pad and grabbing a sponge. She then went to work, scrubbing Rowan clean in every place she could reach and into places Rowan never knew she had, rubbing pale skin pink and nearly burning her. Her hair was drawn back roughly, and doused in water to keep it down, and every inch soon started to hurt, especially her right shoulder.

"This is going to be the only time I do this for you, Rowan. At least, the only time for free. You are no longer royalty. The Harkon line is dead." Rowan could only dully note the fact that they knew the truth about her, and found the hollowness she had felt before not there. Her father may not have been her father, but her mother was still her mother and, while her sisters may only be half by blood were still full by heart. "The only reason I'm doing this now is because you have never done this before, because you have been pampered by your family. Master Balron has spared all our lives, and the naga have left. His own family has taken residence, and they are now the rulers of this land. You are a servant now. And we servants stick together. We cover for eachother, work with each other, and we reap the same benefits. No one is higher than another." Rowan nodded, as her fingers were brushed over again, getting them nice and clean. She was about to speak up about it, but she was cut off.

"The only reason I'm doing this, again, is because you are arrogant, and we do not have time to teach you. Balron has requested you by his side tonight, and I shudder at what for, but he has demanded you to be perfectly clean and dressed well. I don't want you thinking you are equal to him, because you're not. I hate the man, but I understand my position. You understand yours as well. Everyday you will be awake by noon and out doing work with the rest of us. You will talk to me about what to do each day, because I organize everything. You will do your task, and do it well, then come back here and clean yourself, and show up for master Balron as called. I expect you to be in bed by dawn." She said, rather quickly. Rowan was lucky to have caught it all, as it was reminiscent of how Rina talked when she was nervous, spewing and repeating instead of stopping and thinking.

"You will get up, and the door will be unlocked. I heard you banging this morning, and I guess that's why you talked to Gregory earlier, but that is Balron's orders. I will wake you up tomorrow if you sleep in, but after that you are on your own. You will then go and get clean with the other servants like you did earlier, and then you will come to me for work, and then you will come back here. I will leave the tongs and pad, and the fire will still be going when you come back, but you will need to bring a pot of water and grab some of the plants from the reserve and put them in and let them boil. You will scrub every inch, and then you will get out something nice on and wait for Balron in the dining hall. You will be served breakfast with him, I suppose, but I do not know. And then you will stay by his side unless he dismisses you. Confirm, and I mean it when I say confirm it, with him. I do not think he will like his staff leaving without his notice. If he dismisses you, come back to me for more work. If he does not, do as he says. If he asks for something you can not get or prepare or such, get word to the people who need to know. You should know most of them, anyways. Do as he says, and then at lunch stay by his side. If he did dismiss you, and when you finish with the work, come back here and make sure you are still clean. His orders, again. He may dismiss you right before lunch. If he does, just return here and wait or wait in the hall. Then after lunch you will do the same thing as before, come to me and do more work or be by his side and do his work and then back here and down to dinner, and then back here. Before you go to bed, take the pot and dump the water out your window. Throw the plant husks out as well. Then set the pot outside your door. Then brush your hair and keep yourself nice and pretty then go to bed. I will have someone come around and collect the pot and lock your door, his orders again, and then you will sleep until noon and do it me, what is your schedule?" The woman demanded, having been scrubbing Rowan's sides and back for all of this.

"Wake up at noon, wash in servants quarters, find you and get some work. Then scrub." She said, and at her stern look Rowan backtracked. "Get some water and plants, boil THEN scrub, report for breakfast with the new….master, then obey him. Do as he asks, then make sure I'm clean right before lunch. And then obey him until supper, then come to you again or clean again, then report for supper and then obey him until I am dismissed, then get the pot, empty it, and go to bed. All while day and night are inverted" Rowan said, trying to shorten the long list of chores and schedule she had. And the fact that it was approaching evening and they were talking about breakfast.

"And if Master Balron dismisses you?" She asked, and her relieved grin showed that Rowan was doing the right thing, at least for her. Rowan felt a stab, somewhere in her chest, as she thought of this woman's risk in helping her.

"I come find you and do chores until the next meal, report for the meal." Rowan said, slowly wrapping her head around it. It wasn't too much different from her last few years, where she would wash and learn and wash and eat and learn or hang with 'Bon and then wash for supper. Just some chores and more cleaning in between.

"Good girl. Now, if you can't find me talk to Richton and help with whatever he can think of. Remember to get the plants from the reserve, it's the only plant we have in abundance and is labeled with the symbol for ocean. Obey anyone in the house who asks anything from you, and I mean ANYTHING, and never complain or blame. They really don't like that. Do all of this and you'll get to live, just like the rest of us." The woman spoke fast, and Rowan felt a tinge of guilt at how their lives must have gotten a lot harder since the takeover.

"What's your name? I never saw you much, you were Rina's handmaid though, right?" Rowan asked, going on a limb here. The woman stopped for a second, silent and unmoving before she went back to scrubbing, making sure rowan was pink.

"Yes, I am Adria, I was her's." She said, cold and snappy, just like Rina was when she wasn't angry. Rowan didn't ask any more, knowing how she had probably hit a nerve, waiting as Adria finished, getting up. "Find a nice dress, and report down to the dinning hall, and wait for breakfast. Be nice, and behave." She demanded, watching Rowan, who nodded. Adria took a look around, before turning to leave.

"So why am I still in my room? Shouldn't I move into the servants quarters?" Rowan asked, getting the older servant to freeze in thought, and almost mid step. Rowan feared she would rush out without answering, but this was important to her.

"Master Balron insisted you be here, for your own protection." Adria said, though this was only half true. The truth was that the restructuring and take over of the kingdom had not and still isn't going smoothly. So many loved peace, that they turned to war to stop war. And when word spread the royal family was dead, it sparked rebellion against the invaders. To know one of the royal family, directly connected as well, may be alive would spark another rebellion. In conquering, it would be best if there was no rebellion. Plus there was also something to be said about her not being broken in yet so she needed to be watched carefully until such time, but Rowan didn't need to be told such things. Adria quickly left, not wanting to be there any longer, having to make sure all was running smoothly. Rowan could only ponder what she was told, but shrugged it off. Her shoulder was still aching, and she was starving now that she had a moment to relax.

Rowan took it all in, moving to her closet. A few dozen dresses and her play clothes, all her worldly possessions now. She found a simple purple one, getting it on and looking in the mirror. Normally, she would have someone tighten it up for her, but she had no one. She reached back, bareilly finding the hidden strings and started to pull. It took some wiggling and error, but it was eventually satisfactory in tightness. She brushed her hair back, remembering when Angela would do it for her with that little wise smile of hers. Rowan held back the tear that started to form, reality cooling her and hardening her sadly. Her rage was like magma, reality the ocean it fell into, hardening and solidifying it but taking all the heat from it. It had been a day since her family had been gone, not even 24 hours, yet reality had struck her empty, cold and black and hollow. She had already ran out of tears, and it had been so soon. Such a shame.

She eventually left her room, rolling her shoulder. It hurt, really really hurt, but the pain was doable, and not even that bad if she had someone to talk to. She quickly went down to the dinning hall, so normal and simple it was like she was coming down for supper with the then living family, but was nearly worried upon seeing no one there. She nearly took her usual spot, right near the head of the table, but stopped. This wasn't her spot anymore. This was barely even her home anymore, and only by the technicality of still being wanted. But she should be grateful, she wasn't out in the cold. Or dead.

She moved away from the table taking a post where she had seen servants when she came down every morning for breakfast. She fidgeted on her feet for what felt like hours, before Balron entered the room, from the direction her mother used to everyday for every other day of her life. Rowan had to hold back a sniffle, going dead silent. She lowered her head as a sign of respect, noticing that there was someone with Balron. And he wasn't in his orange cloak anymore. She resisted for a few seconds, before finally looking up to look at her 'master' and who else was with him.

Balron was in a simple black set of clothes, what would normally be tight instead were loose looking on him. He walked with the grace of a cat, like this had always been his home. He casually sat on the head spot, where only women have sat before, where the queen was supposed to sit. Where every queen had sat since time before Rowan even knew of. On his arm was someone who looked similar to him. Long shiny red hair that shone with the light, pale skin, bright red eyes to match his own. They looked like they could be siblings, but a chaste kiss from him to her banished that thought.

Balron snapped his fingers, and Rowan looked around real quickly, seeing no one before realizing he wanted her by his side. She hurried over, and at his pointing she sat in the spot to his left, looking down but in his general direction. This was how a servant always looked to a royal, no matter how cruel or kind. Bowed head to show respect but in the general direction to show who was referring to her.

"You have to admit darling, she is just precious." Balron said, trying to impress the girl on his arm. She hummed, moving slowly, and Rowan had to not shudder at the soft purring the new master of the manor gave out, and the slow way the woman grinded on him gently, before two sharp points slid under her chin, making her look up. They felt like they would draw blood if they pushed any harder.

The woman was only a few inches away, looking her over. Up close, Rowan could see the little details. Her eyes weren't scarlet, but a deeper ruby red, almost the same dark shade as her lips. Her skin wasn't pure white, but certainly pale. Like she never saw sunlight, not by birth. Twin fangs graced those perfect lips, and her slim tongue slid out and across those two lips as she inspected Rowan. Rowan tried to do nothing, letting the woman stare. She could see the darker veins, just below the surface. They faded away from afar, but so close they were impossible to miss.

After a few minutes, she slid back across Balron, getting a purr and his hands on her for his efforts. He kissed her gently, pulling her attention away. A few others had walked in, looking similar to Balron but not as much as the woman. All were pale, in darker clothes, though gender, hairstyle, and hair color separated them all, differentiated them.

It was only the smell of blood told her they were all vampires. If she hadn't been scrubbed down to near pink and the scent of blood wasn't so familiar to her now, she would have never known. But it was there, stinking her home to high heavens. Then the food was brought out, meats just like she always loved. That was new, but delightful rather than depressing, but not much else. It had always been balanced, but this was mostly meat things.

The breakfast started, sausages and a small side of eggs is what she got, only taking after everyone else and only after a nod from Balron.A servant ate only after the masters, but apparently she was given the grace to eat with, touching if not from her disdain of them. She ate slowly, noticing how at ease everyone else was, how they chatted and planned, laughed and joked like this was their home. Rowan finished her small plate silently, only taking a small portion and not daring to speak. She would have rather had some of that spicy meat, but would she dare even speak in the presence of these monsters? Dare she risk acknowledgement? She dared not, not wanting their eyes on her, and she had already felt few. She dared not think of piquing their interest anymore.

"Darling, what's her name?" The woman asked, having stayed in her seat, which of course had been Master Balron's lap, her arms now around his neck as she relaxed. Rowan nearly stopped breathing, just going stock still but not raising her eyes to look at the woman, her fork planted firmly in a piece of meat. She had hoped to be ignored by them all, to be the ghost at this table, but that was not to be the case.

"Actually, she is need of a new name. I'll let you pick one later" Balron murmured softly, keeping his arms around her as he tried to distract her from Rowan with a kiss. Rowan could only think of a man talking down to a pet. Rowan slowly started eating again, the two vampires sharing a kiss and not noticing her. Good. The less Rowan was saw, and the less she was called upon, the better. She knew they were vampires, if not by the looks and the smells, then by the drinks that went around the table.

Rowan never really liked wine, even when everyone was alive, but she knew what it tasted like. And the single sip she had told her it was wine, but only partially. It was thicker, warmer, and had a spine shivering texture and taste. Blood mixed with wine. Rowan didn't want to think it, but she had to wonder whose blood was in her cup. It would probably haunt her that night when the thought of Barbontas suddenly shot across her mind, before it was firmly squashed, burned and buried. She would not believe she was drinking blood of her friend, it was probably just from a guard or servant other than Barbontas.

She would rather believe he had gotten out, had escaped and was telling the world and would gather help. Even if no one wanted to help her personally, the kingdom would be wealthy and prosperous and very enticing. And with a war going on, it had only been the alliances and neutrality her mother had made and her grandmother and so on that no one had attacked besides the Naga. But now a very aggressive yet divided enemy held the biggest trading country around. It all sounded like one of Angela's stories, but it was her hope that they would eventually find real resistance, and they would die, and she would be free.

Freedom. It had only been a day, not even that, and she wanted to taste it again. She wanted to be angry and upset and sad and everything else, but all she was in reality was cold and hopeful, hopeful that she would be saved and Balron would be killed so that she and Barbontas could find each other and live peacefully, their own little happy ever after, just like Angela's stories where the hero lives and is rich and enjoys the fruits of his labor. And if he was dead? Well, Rowan would happily join him and her family in the next life when Balron was finally gone. And Rowan would do it herself, if she could get to that point.

Breakfast during the afternoon went by fast, and Balron and the woman by his side quickly left. Rowan took a look around, seeing how the others were still eating, and Rowan slowly sat up, remembering the woman's words. Adria's words. Follow Balron and obey unless dismissed. Simple enough. She quickly hurried after the two, trying not to make a sound. If they didn't' notice her much, she wouldn't be required to do much. With her bad shoulder, she doubted she could do anything else today besides standing around and sending out orders.

They soon came to her mother's and previously her father's old study. The fire was lit, the place looked mostly the same overall. No major changes besides the chained up man by the chair, who looked an inch from death. A guard, probably. Bite marks littered his body, and dried blood made lines around his form like a barbarian in the tales, but he was dying. You didn't have to be a doctor to know that, to know he was low on blood, to know he lost so much so quickly it was amazing he was still alive.

Rowan almost had a tear, knowing he had served her and her family and they had failed him and his trust and promise to protect and to be protected and the knowledge that this shouldn't have happened and yet it did altogether did nothing for him now, just leaving him there to slowly be drank to death. And as if to prove her right, Master Balron sat in the chair and pulled the man's arm up. The woman sat on Balron's lap, and as if casually she sunk her teeth into the given wrist. The guard groaned, either in pain or some twisted pleasure as more of him was drained away. She pulled off after a second, licking her lips but not doing anything to the twin lines of blood that ran down her chin. She kissed Balron, and judging by the way the blood was coming out of the corner of his mouth too they were sharing.

Rowan nearly lost her late breakfast at that, hand over her mouth as she tried to stay quiet. It was all too much, and the fact these two monsters did it so lovingly and playfully and as if the man didn't matter left her nearly sick. She forced it down, shuddering and holding herself as the fire didn't seem so warm anymore. She moved over to the man and woman, careful not to look at the poor guard as she stepped forward. If she dared look at him, dared even acknowledge him she would lose it.

"M...M..Master Balron." She timidly whispered, and at seeing how it didn't kill her nor did he react at all from the bloody kiss, she pulled herself just that much more together before trying again. "Master Balron." She spoke, a bit louder this time, the words not as poisonous in her mouth as she expected. It didn't leave a good taste, but it was doable. He finally seemed to notice, as he pulled back slowly from the woman, who was quick to lean in and lick up the twin lines of red off his face.

"Yes girl?" He asked, looking annoyed if anything else, the woman laying her head on his chest and turning to Rowan, who nearly turned to jelly under her gaze, but couldn't help the shaking of her legs.

"Do you need anything...sir?" She asked, lowering her gaze as Balron sighed. It wasn't very audible or loud, but with only her breathing, her heartbeat that seemed to break her ribs, and the crackling of the fire it was very loud in comparison. She nearly died right there and then, her revenge unfulfilled as she waited for his response.

"No, I do not. You are dismissed." Balron spoke, waving her off and Rowan was quick to nod and turn around, but stopped as she heard a single word. It wasn't what was said, but who and how.

"Wait." The woman sighed out, eyes half lidded as she slowly got up, moving to Rowan who had to bite her tongue to keep from cursing. She had been doing so good since she was a kid, since before even Barbontas. She used to sprout unpleasant words that had annoyed Angela so much, that a few words and strong emphasis was all it took to get Rowan to stop cursing, but without her she had to stop them from escaping once again.

Rowan slowly turned around, hands behind her back again as she looked at the woman, holding back a screech of fear at her dark eyes, the pale skin that, in some light looked perfect but like it was, blood covering her lips and chin and veins bursting around her face gave a startling mask for the child to try and not cringe at. The woman leaned down, and she knew Balron's eyes were not on her but rather something of the woman's. Rowan leaned back, and could only widen her eyes as a set of wet lips found her own, nearly spewing her breakfast as a tongue found its way into her own mouth. They were gone as soon as they appeared, and Rowan could barelly stop herself from raising her dress and using it to wipe away the trail of blood that not covered her lower face, nearly crying from it.

"You weren't kidding, she certainly is sweet." The woman teased, and Rowan understood it was just for the woman's perverse desires, it was to tease the man she now called master. The woman turned and waved Rowan off, going back to the man who only looked more predatory at that. Rowan couldn't stop herself from running out of the room, making sure she slammed the door as she scrubbed at her lips and chin with her dress, trying to get the memory of the kiss out of her mind just like the blood that was staining her own pale skin.

She nearly cried again, everything building up again before she silently burned it all again. She couldn't break down now, never. Not until Balron was dead and she found Barbontas. She spat a few times, getting some of the taste out as she rushed to the kitchen, needing to ask where Adria was and get a drink of something that wasn't blood. Plus Richton was nice, he would be there. The more familiar faces she surrounded herself with, the better. She was quick to run that direction, stopping only once to empty a bit of herself out into a bucket, not able to hold it back. The taste of bile was only slightly better than the blood.

The kitchen was not as buzzing as she remembered, but a massacre would do that. Richton was still bossing people around, but he was cooking some kind of meat and saucing it up very gently, though it wasn't out of care but rather the wound across his gut, which was bandaged heavily as she walked up to him silently.

"Richton!" She chimed, the dwarf turning to her with a slight grin, almost a grimace as her smile dropped, and she saw the heavy red stains across his eyes and down his cheeks, and she understood. He suddenly grabbed her, pulling her into a hug. She slowly wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his beard and letting a few of the generated tears slip. She didn't have a lot, but the few she did she spilled with him. Besides Barbontas and Richton, she had no one, and while he may have had a few others still alive, he lost her mother. They had been friends since they were kids, just like Rowan and 'Bon. Rowan couldn't even think he was dead, and never would she think he was. He had lost her, lost Loriana, and it hurt him. Deeply.

They stayed like that for a few seconds, him building himself back up and Rowan letting some of the quick wall she built between herself and the tragedy break down just a bit. Then he pulled back, drying his tears as he held her arm, and she used her dress arm to wipe away the liquid that dripped down her face. He sighed, and she could clearly smell the scent of smoke, blood, and spice on him. The first two were new, but the third was constant. Everytime she talked to him, passed him, anything, it was always spices. Sometimes alcohol beneath, or cooked meat, or sometimes the various other dishes he made. He was soon well again, coughing once or twice to clear his chest.

"Rowan! How are you my girl?" He asked, trying to sound happy, or at least content. But his voice was shaky, wavering. She wouldn't have came if she knew he was this bad off, knowing he wouldn't be able to pull himself together so easily and she probably just undone all the work he had completed mentally, but Rowan wasn't so deep in thinking.

"Well, I was coming to get a drink and then find Adria. You know where she is?" Rowan asked, attempting a small smile. It failed, she could feel it. More like a grimace than anything, because it brought back thoughts of Balron's girl and what she did and why she couldn't have just let them continue and not bother them.

"Yeah, basin in the back with fresh, and she should be cleaning Rina's room, try there." He spoke, and she nodded, heading to the back as he went back to his meat, burying himself into his work for a new, crueler master. Rowan found the stone basin, using a wooden cup to get a few drinks before spitting out what taste of bile and blood she could, taking a few more before going back, seeing him hard at work she left Richton again. Heading down to Rina's room, she passed the banner her and Barbontas put up so long ago, and was tempted to sneak back in and hide away, but knew it wouldn't be good. She didn't even open the way in, rushing past to get her work. A look out a window nearby showed the sun had set and that she should be grabbing that bucket and getting it boiling as she was told, to get it ready by the 'lunch', despite it was going to be late enough for sleeping for most people.

She made up her mind, rushing down to the store rooms to get some of the plants, then a small pot of water. It went by really fast, honestly. The pot was easy to find, as it was near her door, and the plants in the storerooms was very simple, some green wet plant that smelled faintly sweet. She grabbed a handful, and filled the pot with water before running up to her room again, taking the pot and putting it in place of the old one, taking the plants and just throwing them inside. She took the old one, trying to decide what to do with it, before opening the only window she had. The cold air washed over her, and the fire quivered. The castle was surprisingly warm now, as she guessed so many fires were being lit that the heat was finally expanding and heating the place up.

That or Balron was doing something, he seemed the magic type for certain, and didn't he do something magical. Rowan had to really think on the, scrapping the pot clean and closing the window quick. She was nearly scared to find she couldn't tell. The memory was blank. The more she tried to recall, the more smoke and confusion clouded the memory. Like it wasn't even there. She pushed it off, just like everything else. She couldn't break down, couldn't stop, couldn't cry much anymore. If she did she would act, and if she acted she wouldn't think, and if she didn't think she would get herself killed, and if she died she would never see her friend again.

She didn't want to live if he wasn't with her, but she didn't want to die if there was a possibility she was leaving him behind. She turned to the fire, seeing how it was dim. She would have to ask about that, see if she was allowed to keep some logs in her room, and some way to light them. While she understood people were still doing it for her, she knew it would need frequent extra fuel and cleaning for all the extra use it would be needing. If it was just to keep the room warm, a light fire would do, but to boil the water and plants it needed to be hotter, which used more wood and kindling.

Rowan was nearly baking, being this close to the fire as she watched it, searing the image of it in her mind. The flickering light was nice, was perfect. A heat that found itself growing hotter and hotter. She sighed, closing her eyes as she stretched up, the ache in her body easing with the heat, which baked her and made her sweat and feel somewhat alive. It was as if she was finally waking up, heating up. She quickly took a peak at the water, seeing the first few bubbles as she slipped out of her dress. A bit bloody, with a few tear marks and blood stains and bile. She didn't want to see it anymore, and looked out at her closet, bundling up the offending piece of clothing and throwing it into the back, pulling out a new dress. Another slim thing, just blue in color. She quickly counted what she had. The dress on her, the bloody one, and seven others, plus a few fancy looking clothes and a small stash of peasant clothes and simple stuff. Enough for a fortnights worth of clothes before a full wash. Good. She had an intuition to follow now. Something that had started nagging in her mind as she watched the fire. A piece that was lost, now found. An intuition. A memory long since forgotten remembered.

She went to her bed, shoving the top piece off, the top bed part falling off. It was heavy and dragged, but when it was off it revealed the sturdy middle. Lying in the middle, a simple book of tough black leather bound with a symbol of a peaceful god, the symbol of Pelor, god of the sun and healing and so much more, a golden sun with a face in the middle, staring out.

Her journal. Missing for what felt like years, but no more. Maybe it had always been there, and she never fully shoved her bed off to find it. Maybe it was magic. Maybe it was divine. The journal was filled with a lot of symbols of hope and sleep. Maybe some god brought it back, to make things right again. Maybe it was Pelor himself, since the sun was the enemy of vampires. Maybe it was her imagination, but regardless here it was again. She knew it had slipped off her bed more than a year ago, but somehow it had found its way between the parts.

She pulled it to her, tracing the symbol on the front. She remembered who Pelor was, when Angela told her and gave her the journal. A once peaceful god of justice and hope who grew harsh and became wrathful, a soft glow of dawn and healing light but also a spear of lightning and heat and destruction to pierce the darkness. Hope wasn't just a shining light to guide a path, it was also a sword to slay her enemies. She nodded once, opening the cover. His face stared at her, golden hair and white robed, holding a bolt of light like it was tangible, hovering in the sky. She remembered now, the story of the first vampire.

Very long story short, evil magicians turned from his holy light in the pursuit of darker magic. As punishment, he turned them into vampires, and would forgive them should they be im. The trick was that it would hurt them to do so, forcing them to forsake the possibility of power and face pain and burning to be forgiven. Non did so, and since then the vampires and their spawn have been enemies of Pelor.

So be it. She would be his light, his sword to pierce into his enemies, for they were her enemies as well. He had blessed her with this book, in a sense. Whether he brought it to her or not was not what gave it the ability to banish the darkness that had invaded her sleep for years when written within. Even if it wasn't directly thanks to him, he still deserves the thanks. Mayaheine was one of his demigods, who stood for justice and valor. Saint Bane, who hunted the undead. Pelor hated darkness, and violence, but when used against evil it was acceptable. So be it. She looked at the book, grabbing it and holding the thing close to her chest.

She sighed, looking at the water, then sat the book on her stand. She forced herself up and picked the mattress up, forcing the mattress back up into its place as she stripped out of the last of her clothes, using the tongs to pull the pot out and use the cloth to start scrubbing.

She went nowhere near as rough as Adria did, cleaning herself as best as she could, noting how fragrant yet empty the scent the water had was. It was nice, but the kind of nice you just write off as it wasn't that nice. She made sure she was doused in it, setting the pot by the door to cool as she grabbed a pillow, sitting in front of the fire to get dry and warm, seeing the dress she had been trying out earlier still on her bed. After a few minutes, she grabbed the dress and got dressed again, sighing as she tightened it slowly, looking formal again. She brushed her hair back, as she went down to wait again by the table, seeing as how she had nothing else to do. Adria would be annoyed she wasn't sought out, but Rowan now had a firm stance on her situation, a fire in her heart. That was worth the older servant's annoyance. She grabbed her book on the way out, slipping it back under a pillow.

The table was empty, but just barely, one of the cooks cleaning it off quickly before scurrying back to the kitchen. She waited by the wall, back in her usual spot. It was soon the first new vampire up close came into the room, taking his seat near the end of the table, rubbing the side of his head. He was pale, but not as much as Balron or his woman. Short, cropped black hair that barely touched his ears, slim as he sat with a sigh, looking annoyed. Rowan stood waiting, mostly for her 'master' so she could take her spot and eat. However, he wasn't showing up yet, and the longer she waited in here alone with this man the more nervous she got.

"Girl, come here." The man called, wincing as if speaking hurt him as much as Rowan did from listening to his voice. It was rough and somewhere between simmering with hate and calm with contempt. She hurried over, remembering Adria's words. Obey them all, basically, but obey Balron most. She hurried over, and he motioned her down. She bent a bit, getting close. He smelt of wine and blood, but unlike Balron who smelled of blood first and then other, he smelled of wine mostly with a tinge of blood. It was sickly smelling, but somewhat wecomed. "Girl, go to the kitchen and get me a cup and a bottle of the special wine." He breathed quietly, not wincing from speaking this time. She nodded, hurrying up and to the kitchen, feeling his eyes on her the whole way.

A few words to a passing kitchen boy got her the two goods and she hurried back, setting the cup on the counter and, with a look when she sat the bottle on the table, poured him the wine. It was smooth, yet she could smell the blood. She was careful not to spill it, knowing some nobles got mad when a servant got clumsy. He waited, then grabbed the cup and drained it quickly, setting it down slowly and she quickly refilled it. She knew this kind of drinking, wanting not the taste but the affect.

"What's your name girly?" He asked, and Rowan cringed at his eyes. Bloodshot, and a cloudy grey and red, as she had to steady herself, finishing filling his glass before pulling back. He grabbed it, drinking again but a bit slower.

"Rowan, sir…"She dropped off, both to end her speech and to get his name, filling his cup a bit faster as he set it down. Rowan had forgotten how Balron had wanted to get her a new name, only knowing she wanted to move away from the man. After an additional pour, she began noting the bottle was about a forth of the way empty already. That was worrying, but wasn't the most worrying. No one else had entered the hall yet, and she didn't like the way he was looking at her.

"Ambrose. Just Ambrose." He said, draining his cup again and setting it down, and she filled it. And so went the cycle, him drinking and her refilling before Balron arrived, and she refilled his cup one last time and setting the mostly empty bottle by him before she went back to her spot. She took her seat, sitting by Balron as the woman took her usual spot on Balron's lap, and a few more of these beasts filled out the table. Food was brought out, and more bottles were brought out of the blood wine. Food as well, simple yet tantalizing.

Lunch went by fast, really. Rowan had been thinking all throughout it, just eating bits and pieces throughout, working more on the problem on how to kill these creatures. Sunlight wouldn't directly kill them, but certainly makes the job easier. And slashing through them might work, but there were several things that worked especially well. A stake to the heart, removing body parts, and so much more. But the question was, that sprung up near the end of the meal, how they got in.

Vampires could only enter a home if they had been invited in by someone who lived here. But that also brought the point up of if this was classified as a home. It was much bigger than a normal home, and wasn't lived in exclusively by one family. But that was too easy an answer to assume. And this line of thinking didn't help her in thinking of how to kill them.

When Balron left, Rowan did as well, silent as she could. She sized him up, truely now. She had a fire in her heart, a burning rage at her core that she would use to temper a blade to kill him with. But it was the question of how she would kill him that bothered her. She could barely hold her giant crossbow, wherever that was now. A sword would be impossible to swing around for long, and a smaller one or even a knife would mean she would have to get really close to him to do the deed. He was decently tall, compared to her, and she knew he had magic. So she would have to bid her time until she was able to take him on. Back to the study, previously her mother's, previously her non-father's, now a vampire's.

They had out the tools of counting, two vampires making notes and moving beads. Master Balron sat in his chair, The woman still by his side, feeling him up from all angles. It was kinda creepy and unnerving to the child, but what could she say. Rowan was coming to the certainty that she was a lady of the night, and not of the vampire kind. A whore. But Balron kept her on, so probably his whore. Though that didn't keep the other men's eyes off the slick woman's body.

Balron started talking to one of the counters, a simple looking man she knew was vampiric based on his smile, getting numbers for store rooms and people still living and so much more. Rowan stifled a yawn, realising it was most certainly night now, and that she should be in bed, getting some nice dreams finally with her journal. But she hadn't been dismissed, and she still had work to do afterwards and another meal. Plus the scrubbing and cleaning and so much more. Though on that same point, she did not want to be here, hearing them talk of what was one day supposed to be her fortune with her sisters, hearing how many bodies were being drained and how many were still alive and how many were burned. She noted a man throwing an extra log into the fire, and only hoped some unfortunate kid other than her was cleaning the piping upward. That may be cruel of her, but the smoke smell was going to get to her again if she didn't escape.

"Darling, get us some more wine please." The woman asked, and Rowan looked to her, seeing her stretched across Balron's lap like a cat, and now that she got a good look at her eyes in a new light that wasn't as horrifying as the first time, she saw they were a bit like Ambrose's, cloudy and a bit dull.

"The bloody wine, correct?" Rowan asked, and the woman nodded once, turning around so she was looking at Rowan upside down for a second before she wrapped her arms around Balron's neck, pulling herself back up to his face. Rowan nodded, taking off to grab a bottle of wine and two cups, knowing that if she had one Balron would. It was on her way out that she realised something had been missing. She turned as the door finally closed, seeing a large bloody spot where the guard had previously been, but there was no man in sight. She shuddered, running off to get the stuff as the door closed.

The kitchens were a series of chaos by overwork and subpar labor force. She would have talked to Richton, to skip out on going back to the room, but she couldn't, seeing as he was working on supper. A quick word to a male bareilly out of his teens got her the desired bottle and cups, as the metals clinked together and the bottle was slightly warm in her hands. She hurried back, wanting them pleased and drunk and unknowing of her presence so she might slip out. Entering brought nothing new, the woman still grinding and playing with Balron, trying to get his attention as he talked to the other two, setting out orders and commands. Rowan handed the cup to the woman, filling it. She drank it quickly, before tossing it aside. At her open hand, Rowan gave the bottle, and she quickly opened it and started drinking, before pulling off and offering to Balron. Rowan shuddered, moving over to the side as she waited.

After a while, Rowan kinda went into a lull, finding a nice spot to sit on a counter, waiting to be ordered again. The room was almost suffocatingly warm, and the scent of blood and wine mixed enough that she couldn't breathe without that being all she smelled. She leaned back, waiting, her eyes slowly dropping. And she fell asleep, not even knowing she had done so.

This time, it wasn't nightmares or slaps she was awakened to. It was nothing. One of the other servants had thrown another log onto the fire, and they were still talking, and the whore was asleep on Balron, who was still making comments to the two other vampires. Something about jewels, probably in the vault in the bigger castle in the capital where a lot of big businesses resided. She yawned, silently as she could as she sat up, brushing herself off. She decided now would be a good time to get washed up. She nodded once, as she stepped towards her master.

"Is there anything you require, master Balron?" She asked, and Balron sighed, waving her off like she was more of an annoyance than his personal servant. Rowan obeyed, slipping off to her room. The fog of the study slowly slipped away. She used to find pleasure in that room, the near suffocating heat had been nice without the new mix of blood thay added. The furs used to bring her some playful images, cuddling around them. Now she couldn't even be there without Balron, that beast.

It's strange, even she had to note. As much as this had been, it should have been too much. She should be choking back tears constantly, memories should be leaving her catatonic. But here she was, rather ok after everything. Yes, stressed in theory but rather fine, as she grabbed the pot by her door, rushing down to get it filled. She was sore, but she felt more empty than anything. She was a shadow, really. She couldn't stop thinking yet she was thinking of nothing. She barely realized she was nearing her room with the pot before she touched the door and snapped herself out of herself.

"What's wrong with me?" She muttered, looking down at the water. It vibrated and rippled, warping her pale visage into something unknowing. She sighed, forcing the fog from her mind slowly as she pushed open her door, walking in. She thought about it, and just poured the water into a previous bucket, setting the other two outside. She contemplated kicking them, that seemed appropriate. She should be mad, furious, hating her situation. But she was empty, just like these containers. She pushed them aside with a foot, brushing a strand of golden hair back. She barely noticed the tears as she stepped back into her room, letting the water heat as she stayed in her current dress. She didn't...feel anything, actually.

She didn't fully wash this time, not seeing the point. It's not like Balron or any of the others really cared, just wanting her as an extra drink or something probably, or maybe to reaffirm who ruled the kingdom. It was easier to just take control of the family then replace them. Plus she was young and well liked by the guards, so it might keep the few living ones in line. She slid her clothes back on, finding the little strings a bit faster and pulling them a bit tighter, nodding as she went out again, ready for dinner. She nearly stumbled halfway through the relatively short walk, only just realizing how tired she was.

She knew it made sense, that it would be dawn in a few short hours, and that she was still a kid, that she should be sleeping now. And that the past few days has been exhausting on her. She needed sleep, and a good meal. She had eaten, but not a lot. A soft grumble in her midsection reaffirmed this thought, a sharp pain spiking into her before sliding away. Numbing, for now. She leaned on a wall for a few seconds, groaning softly before forcing herself back up. On her feet. Onward.

The knowledge of how tired one is actually makes one more tired, less energetic as the knowledge itself saps up energy. Soldiers have been known to fight for days longer than they ever could if they could avoid thinking, but the moment one even considers sleeping it's a downward slope. Rowan was feeling this affect as she dredged herself back to the dining hall, a thick scent filling the air. Wine, booze, meat. Lots of cooked meats.

Kitchen servants were running food to the table, one by one. It looked like a feast, and Rowan could only think of one kind of event that required such a meal. Victory. A meal, a feast in celebration of the end of a war, to show one's new position off. Rowan hadn't been to many of these, the kingdom having never been in a war since before the Naga. Rowan and her family had been invited to a few and they have attended fewer than that, usually only with their closest allies when it would be inappropriate not to attend. And that's what this was, really.

The Naga had probably swept through the capital finally, broken into the final vault, defeated the last large force of resistance. But in their place, vampires? Rowan hadn't thought of it, really. But it was confusing. She could understand the Naga wanting to ravage the place. They were scorned and thrown out, yatta yatta. And Balron had been in the final siege. But why leave him the country they so painstakingly destroyed when they wanted resources in the first place.

Ambrose was already at the table, drinking. Rowan stood by the sidelines, not making a noise she could hear. But she apparently made one he could hear, as he snapped his fingers. She waited, seeing no one else. Two more snaps got her to come over, fearing his impatience. A man of higher standing and power demands your attention, you give it. Especially if you are weak enough to be killed like a gnat.

"Why are you here so early, girl?" He demanded in a drunken slur, before finishing his cup. Probably the same that she had gotten him earlier when he had arrived half drunk earlier.

"I was required to, sir." She said, as a memory welled up from deeper in her mind, remembering how the lesser standing court members came earlier, just to secure a spot. "And you, sir?" She asked, going risky here. If he was lower standing, she may not have much to worry about in him. At least, when it came to Balron. She was his personal servant somewhat, and this was a simple court member compared to her. Of course, he could still kill her, but she was betting on this bastardized form of immunity to protect her.

It took him finishing before he sighed, seemingly shrugging off the idea of this being anything other than drunken conversation, like in a lowly pub. "Well, you see, this wine is good shit. And it's mixed with the right amount of blood to make it _really_ good. I'm drinking to my heart's content tonight. We won, and the wine won't last long." He slurred, stopping occasionally but never ending til he filled his cup, drinking again. Ambrose seemed to caught up in his wine to care about her much ast that, and Rowan took off again, back to her post to wait. It felt like forever, and more stabs of hunger sliced into her before more vampires slowly flocked in. And it wasn't long before Balron and the mistress came back from the study, for whatever they were doing wasn't more important than their overall victory. Balron took his seat, the woman on him once more. It was starting to annoy Rowan how the woman attached herself to his lap for some odd reason. He seemed happy about it, though. Disgustingly so.

As the two took their seat, Rowan took her own beside him. Food was covering the table all over, drinks were passed around so happily, so merrily. Balron watched over it all, before tapping the woman, and she pouted. "Sweet Sasha, you have to get up now, it's time." He murmured, and Rowan finally had a name for the woman. The female vampire pouted, but slid off of him slowly, standing by the head seat as Balron got up slowly, seeming more king like than ever before. But that might be because he finally looked serious instead of somewhere between pleasured and troubled.

"Friends, your ears please." he said, his voice louder than as if he had shouted, but his voice had never risen above a simple speaking. The other vampires stopped drinking and talking bit by bit, silence filling the hall where seconds ago laughing and drinking and merriment had been.

"Lord Dagon took this castle two nights ago, and now has also taken this country as his own. The capitol has fallen, and Rilia is his gift to us. It is now ours to rule." He said, his voice echoing as ever face watched his own, every vampire grinning or smiling in some form, each human neutral at best but ranging from shocked to disgusted to even hateful. Rowan forced her eyes downward, a silent prayer bareilly slipping past her lips to the gods above in honor of all those that had been lost or killed because of these people. "You all have been family to me for many years, I still remember each and every one of your turnings, and for your loyalty you shall all be rewarded. Tomorrow we will thrash out all of the details, but tonight we celebrate!" he said, cheers erupting up and down the long table of vampires, as Balron took his spot. This was the signal they all waited for, digging into the food with gusto.

Sasha took her spot back on Balron, and Rowan didn't attempt to show restraint now as she took helpings now, having waited long enough to bareilly be last. Tired, having eaten very little, having her shoulder pushed the wrong way and out of place, all of the bad things that had happened today. They were all pushed away as she got a large plate full, eating quickly. It was all so good, the heavy flavor bursting in her mouth like a dam breaking and letting out the contained river. She ate quickly, only just keeping herself proper and soon even that was pushed away for more food.

It seemed her idea was the same as many all along the table, the cooked meats and wine standing no chance. Rowan didn't touch the wine much, but even she drank more than the other two meals combined. She needed something in her, something to go on. And soon she had finished her glass, along with what felt like her weight in meat. She was starved, and after all her life having food at her beck and call, being hungry was vastly unpleasant compared to the comfort of being full. Sasha and Balron were talking softly to each other, and Rowan was soon ready to head to bed. Curtains had been drawn over the windows, the few that their had been, but light was finally starting to seep through and light the edges. Rowan was struck with a sense of sleep, like a switch as she yawned, a bed suddenly her only desire.

Balron seemed to grin, as he slowly got up, Sasha sliding off of him as he gently tapped Rowan's shoulder. Rowan nodded, not hesitating to finish her wine before heading after him, nearly swaying as he went to a new place, or rather irregular. They weren't heading to the study, but rather to Rowan's room. Rowan could only smile happily at the thought of her bed. Balron opened the door, Sasha on his arm as Rowan nearly wondered in, before she was gently grabbed by the woman. Rowan was jolted out of her sleepy stupor, almost freezing up with fear at being held.

"I thought you said I could name her, darling." Sasha claimed, pouting as she pulled Rowan closer, the little girl not resisting more out of shock and fear than respect. Balron nodded, raising a brow as he rolled a hand. Sasha knelt by Rowan, and started tilting her head and face this way and that, measuring her up. Rowan obeyed each prod and shift, trying not to breath, not to think, not to see the woman. She was beautiful from afar, but just like before, upclose she was drastically scarier. Now those veins from before were more faded, and her skin had a shade more color to it, but it was sickening to know that it was because of someone else's blood that she looked so, that beneath her skin was someone else's life essence that allowed her to live. And that made her all the scarier to the girl.

"Akasha." Sasha finally said, finger nails slowly dragging from Rowan's neck up to her chin, tracing the veins. "Akasha will be her name." She decided, and Balron nodded, Sasha letting Rowan go as the girl stayed there, frozen. A shooing motion from the older woman sent Rowan scampering inside, fearing of making the two mad as her door closed behind her, her room warm and light filled from the dying fire and the start of sun rise through the windows. Rowan heard voices through the door, but her bed was calling her, and she answered the call. She grabbed her journal, so well hidden yet so easy to find, and clutched it close to her chest, falling asleep soon after.

She was Rowan no longer, but Akasha rather. She was no longer princess, but servant now. She would no longer be sitting beside her family, but would soon be avenging them. Sleep soon followed.


	13. Notice and Explanations

**Hi all, S.E.K. here. I know I've been gone and haven't posted in a long time. I apologize informally here, but I have my reasoning. And I think you'll like it. First, I want to clarify things in story, behind the scenes, and personal.**

 **First off, about the plot. I understand its not normal, it bounces and doesn't make sense. Things are more thrown in at times and others are hinted at but never well. I apologize for this. I should have held myself to a higher standard, but that's ok. This was more of a rough draft, a starting point. Partly to see what it looked like away from my workings and partly to get them field tested. I'm sorry if you believed it was the final product, but it's probably best the story goes through a revision. A lot of the main elements, starting points, and characters will remain but the overall plot will adapt for a stronger basis.**

 **HOWEVER:** **I need you all to tell me what worked. What you liked, what you thought went wrong. What worked for you and what worked against you. I have my own personal stick in this, about what characters I thought worked and what I need to change, but I also want to hear from you all. This is to help me become a better writer, so if you think something sucks tell me!**

 **Second, behind the scenes and personal. I am a working college student. On days and nights I work, I got a total of at least 6 hours for school, 9 hours of work overnight, and about 2 hours driving. This leaves me 7 hours for anything personal, which is where this story is. I need to sleep. I tried balancing too much at once, which is why chapters were already being posted late, spasmodically, and overall worse I feel. I'm doing better, now, but it's a double edged sword.**

 **I have a life away from the keypad. As much as I love it, and as much as I love writing and exploring this vast unknown land, we all have reality we must get back to. On days off work and off school, as rare as those are, I visit friends and family, I play games with people, I try to relax. No matter how much I write, I can't get back the time it took to write it, no matter how much better off I am for writing it and getting that practice in. This story is up there on my list, but please understand it isn't number one. Number one is school, second is work, third is friends and family, then this story and every other project I am taking on. This doesn't mean I'm putting you, the reader and the critic, in fourth. Honestly, it doesn't take long to read a comment, reply to a question, respond to a critic on my writing, or accept scorn or praise, but it does take a lot of time to write clearly, concisely, and well. Time I don't always have. I will be working on chapters in my spare time, but please understand that as I fit this into my schedule and life, it takes up time. I may cut back a lot, postpone scheduled uploads, so on for a bit before I get everything on the road. It's a process, a new one now that I have even more to balance.**

 **HOWEVER:** **Just as I expect you to tell me what went wrong before and how you think I can improve, I promise you to keep at it. I won't stop, only slow. I'll inform you in a timely manner if there is a postponement, which I will have on my bio, and in the chapters. I also promise to listen and respond, your voice will not be unheard. You all mean a lot to me, and show how well everything is going. You need me to post to read it, and I need you to read it to tell me how it went and if there's anything I need to change and how it felt to you, so I can keep doing what's right and stop doing what's wrong the next time I post. It's a cycle, where we both play a part. I can't fix what I don't see as a problem, and i need you to tell me what those problems are, or else I'll keep making that mistake and we all lose out.**

 **Third, what happens next. It's a good thing to think about. Well, in short, I will leave up this version of the story, though the name and description will be changed to show that it is an older, less clear edition. Some of you will hate the changes I am thinking, so I leave this here. Really, the first part will be the biggest change, from the beginning to the vampire take over. I want to scrape and remake it all. I am keeping the vampire take over, as well as the characters past and present (somewhat), but I forced myself with a certain plot element and a certain starting point that left me hindered til this point. This will change. I have the ideas for after the takeover kinda marked out but nothing is fully solid. The start changes the ends. Your voices, as well, will change how it goes. If something isn't working for a lot of you, if its ruining the story for a lot, I may change some things and adapt to provide a better experience, depending on the reason. (Almost) Nothing is set in stone.**

 **HOWEVER:** **I can't know what to change, what to think on, what to adapt, so on and so forth, without you telling me you opinions. Despite me having a personal stick in this, I don't want you to think you're voices mean nothing. You mean everything. It's like readers of a novel. Does a novel even exist if no one reads it? This is like a novel in process, and you all help change the plot and aspects to make a better version of it. No pressure, no diamonds. On the other foot, please understand that these characters and events are my creations, my playthings in a sense. I have a very large personal stick in all of this. I won't change everything, some things are solid already. This may be the story of Akasha, but really it's her backstory, some events have to happen. I apologize if this rubs you the wrong way, but ask any dedicated writer to completely change the backstory without changing the future story and they would laugh about it. The past shapes the future, like the hands of a blacksmith working in the forge. You can't change the hands without changing the blade, even a little. Like I said, this doesn't mean your voices will not be heard, responded to, and taken seriously. But please understand I can't change the base of certain events. The best example is the assault and take over of the castle (Which will be changed in some aspects, trust me. I didn't like it that well either, especially since it transitioned so weirdly, but it's getting fixed.)**

 **I don't want commenters saying that Rowan should have been able to kick them out, or that she should have died, or that it would be a fair fight, or that her family should have lived, ect, ect. Those changes have too big an impact on the future. It'd be one thing if this story was as flexible as a normal story, or if I held myself to a lesser standard, but this is also supposed to be somewhat a back story, so certain things have to happen. The tone, however, is very changeable.**

 **In closing, I apologize for my absence, my rough writing, and my failure to inform and stick to timing. It will get better, after the title change I will get started on the revision, and may even get a Beta if I get time. It's a cycle me and you, the reader, are now a part of. I'll write, you read, you inform me of what worked, what failed, what fits, and what's confusing, and I will either fix the story, or adapt going forward to give you a better reading experience.**

 **REVISION CH 1 WILL BE DONE HOPEFULLY BY 4-20-19. PLEASE BE PATIENT WITH ME AND MY NEW SCHEDULE. THE FIRST CHAPTER MAY BE OUT SOONER. BUT IF IT ISN"T OUT BY THEN EXPECT NOTIFICATION ON MY BIO. I'M ALSO HOPING TO GET AHEAD SOON, SO THAT MAY HELP.**


End file.
